It’s a super strange feeling, anticipating a hurricane. You get plenty of warning – almost too much warning. The anticipation is killer. I’m a “let’s just rip the band-aid off, already!” kind of a girl. And Mother Nature says, “No dear, we’re going to make you sit with your fearful what-ifs for a while. It’s good for you.” Ugh.
The last time a big hurricane directly affected our area was five years ago. And we evacuated, with four kids and two dogs in tow. We went to Atlanta and the people there could not have been kinder and more welcoming. Instead of price gouging, they gave us discounts, and extras, delicious heartwarming food and long, caring hugs. I will always have a warm spot in my heart, dedicated to the good, hospitable people of Atlanta, Georgia. But evacuating didn’t come without its challenges. The roads were filled with wall-to-wall, crawling, slowly inching along traffic. We ended up having to sleep one night at a rest stop (six stressed people, including sweaty, ornery male teenagers + two big dogs, in a cramped car = not good sleep), which was littered with cars of people, doing the same exact thing. There were cars everywhere, even on the grass and on the sides of the highway. Most gas stations along the way, were out of gas. And watching the news, wondering what kind of mess we were going to go back home to, was excruciatingly stressful. Media sensationalism is a terribly painful experience, when it affects the people and the places that you most love and care about. On the way home, after the hurricane, we were surrounded on the highway, by brigades of utility trucks from seemingly every state in the nation, heading down to help with our plight. I remember this bringing tears of patriotism and gratitude, to my weary eyes.
We had a pow-wow with our near-by neighbors last night, and most of us have decided to stay and weather this one out in our homes. (Including a doctor and his wife, who is a physician’s assistant, who live across the street. This helped seal the deal for me. We’ll look out for each other. That’s what neighbors do.) This experience will be a contrast to what we did the last time, and I am curious to compare, first-hand, which is the better way to handle these things. Our adult children are all in safe spots away from here, so that is what gives me my greatest peace of mind. Honestly, right now my husband and I find ourselves stressing mostly about inconsequential things, like how are we going to brew our coffee when the electricity is out?!
People often question why you would want to live in Florida, and other tropical spots when hurricanes are a seasonal concern. These perilous storms are the price we pay to live in paradise. Florida rarely has gray days. Sunshine is a given. I can go to the beach for lunch if I want to, and bury my feet in the sand, feeling the soothing gulf breezes, lulling my heartbeat to match the rhythms of the tides. We have gorgeous sunsets, and dolphins are as common as the deer, and the wild turkeys, and the herons and the hawks that we see almost daily. Florida is an inclusive, melting pot. No one feels like an “outsider” because everyone here is from somewhere else. There is something for everyone in Florida, even the kooky “Florida Man.” Our state makes loads of money from tourism. There are many good reasons for this fact. Florida is soothing to the soul.
This may be my last blog post this week before we lose power. I don’t know. Regardless, I’ll see you on the other side of the storm. One thing is for certain – you fully know and understand the people and the things that you truly treasure and mean the most in your life, when you are facing down a life-threatening storm. My dearest readers, I can’t wait to be with you again, after the storm.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.