Paradise bills come due. This summer we have seen an eerie absence of tornadoes (too dried to happen).
Paradise’s sand box are put on high alert.
This time, the National Guards are also mobilized, but for a different reason: to help with eventual and possible evacuation.
Grab your bag. Essentials only: toothbrush, toothpaste (shared), eye glasses, underwear and change of clothes. Well, maybe a paperback, normally for beach reading.
I used to have my class do an exercise in forced ranking: what if you could only bring five things to an isolated island.
It makes for group discussion, collaboration and debate.
What would you bring if you were to live in the Keys this morning?
Tow that camper away with everything in it and sit in traffic?
Remember not to forget the I-phone charger, for storm tracker.
I know I would bring my daughter’s pics, even though they are already in a flash drive.
I heard of DropBox. Maybe I should open an account (a safe?) there in the Cloud.
Valuables and all that remains.
A lifetime of memory and momento.
What is life?
Play time and work time, hurt and healing?
Sand storm and sand box.
Some of us are defined by crisis, others crown.
The higher the climb, the steeper the fall.
Just part of the roller-coaster ride.
In other time, Florida Keys are picture perfect. You can’t get enough of it.
But then, one has to live with these North-ward weather patterns, as if everything “negative” seems to have come from somewhere South, if it fits your prejudice. People who reached a certain maturity have come to accept that trade-off : you can’t have paradise without penalty, sand without storm, at least in this life, at least on this Earth.