Of course as we know, that's all about to change real soon.
Every news report I look at, be it written or video, is literally like something you imagine out of a disaster movie. I have no doubt it's going to get real.
And so the waves of memories cascade over my brain. Memories of two years ago. Memories of Ian.
For the uninitiated, or the lazy, here's a rundown of all the posts I made during the lead up, the onslaught, and the post script of that once in a lifetime experience. Or so I thought, because here we go again.
I was going to list them individually, but there were some 15 or so posts so here's the whole month.
To make a long story short, yes, we made it through relatively unscathed that time. In fact, as I remark in my posts linked above, I never even lose power. But it's not what DID happen that causes the stress, it's the fear of what COULD HAVE happened.
I mean, Hurricane Ian passed directly over my home, said home being a single wide 50-year-old mobile home trailer nestled tightly amongst similarly built trailers, with Category 2 winds making this tiny shelter creak, moan and sway for hours into the dark and scary twilight.
And all I had to show for it in terms of damage were a couple of slats of my skirting been slightly out of place and some neighboring homes pieces of fiberglass insulation and aluminum guttering laying in my yard. I popped my skirting back into place and threw the other junk in the trash wondering what house nearby got torn up this much.
So, you may ask, why the fuck am I staying here? I've got plenty of time. Unlike Ian, the forecast isn't predicting someplace totally different, it's predicting pretty much right in my neck of the woods. But that's the funny thing about "neck of the woods." Prediction is not a precise game. Forecasters can't tell you that your house will be the one that will bear the brunt of damage as opposed to another. We saw that just a couple weeks ago with Helene. Damage here in Florida was bad enough, but look what it did in regards to flooding in Georgia, Tennessee, and North Carolina.
So I'm a ball of nerves right now. I'm going to be going through this again. I'm going to be watching all the forecasts. I'm going to be sitting in my command chair, watching my two monitors, as long as the power holds out. I'm going to be watching out the windows, and listening, and feeling, and smelling.
That's right, smelling.
I don't know if I mentioned it last time but one of the odd things when 90 mph gusts pierce through 50-year-old plywood walls, you can smell that old inner wall dust being thrust on in.
Legacy dust.
Dust that remains undisturbed, except during those once in a lifetime hurricanes. Even if they are twice in a lifetime.