A Storm. Day 298.

We’re having a little tropical storm named Collin today. It was last minute. The air is so muggy and thick, warm and misty.

As the rain was pouring on my Jeep, giving it a much needed bath, a rinsing off of the poor juicy insects who found their demise on Interstate 40, I was reminded of past hurricanes, and of one moment in particular that wasn’t funny then, but I guess is now.

Max was a baby, only a couple months old. He still used a baby carrier because he wasn’t quite ready for a car seat yet.

I worried about the storm and potential for tornadoes so when it was time to sleep at night I locked him up tight in his seat so if anything happened, he would have a fighting chance.

That’s paranoid, right? I thought it was genius.

It’s frightening to sit through sometimes days of violent winds and darkness. News on the battery operated radio talked about tornadoes lifting houses high in the air and flooding chasing people away from their homes.

I was simply afraid.