I grew up in Florida. On the coastline. Not sure If I really need to say more. I loved storms, watching the clouds roll over the waves and the lighting dance and crack in the sky. But then, I was a kid. I also remember my parents being a lot more worried about tropical storms. Especially ones that grew into Hurricanes and got to be named.

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Now I grew up in the years before we had males names and I know that dates me, but boy were those hurricanes real bitches. I would sit on the floor in front of the television and watch the weather forecast with my siblings on each side of me.

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I distinctly remember at least three times we had to evacuate further inland. We would have to get our backpacks that we used for camping. It was always half full, some camping supplies wrapped in a drysack sitting in the bottom. I thought my parent didn’t want to empty it and lose anything. Now I realize that probably held stuff more important than my polka dotted pajamas and favorite teddy. Mom had a big blue Rubbermaid tote with food that she’d take with us. Dad would have a tan plastic file box he’d carry as well. We never had to go to a public shelter, but a friend’s ranch so it was always an adventure.

We were lucky and never got caught in one or lost our home. Many couldn’t claim the same. So yes I prep and watch the weather and worry a bit like my parents did. I guess that’s all part of growing up.

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