My mom, in her 70s, lives in her own home in Collier County, Florida.
Florida has been preparing for days for Hurricane Irma to make landfall and smash into most everything.
My sisters and I live in Illinois.
My sisters and I have been concerned and have asked her to come up to us in Illinois for awhile.
My sisters and I try to keep each other posted as we have our own conversations with her, but my Mom’s mind changes with the direction of the wind.
“No, Mom isn’t leaving.”
We know this and now it’s too late even if she wanted to.
Two days ago my sister called.
“Mom is shopping for a new backpack to match her evacuation outfit. She wants to know what color to get.”
(Yes. Yes, I did say that. Evacuation. Outfit. Something so inherently wrong with even putting those two words together for vanity sake, right?)
Irritated and excitable I holler ,”Do they have mud color? Cuz that’s what she’s going to be covered with. Tell her she should match the color of all the MUD!!!”
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