It's weird for me, on the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, to hear Mom on the phone talking about her evacuation plans. Three years ago, I had just returned from my parent's Golden Anniversary celebration when they left New Orleans at midnight (the first time they had ever evacuated the city for a hurricane). This time, it's just Mom, and she is ready to go: the frozen goods are bundled into big black garbage bags, so if the electricity goes out, the freezer won't be ruined. She's got her medicines and clothes ready to go. My sister, Jane, now has a husband (courtesy of Katrina--the one bright spot in the whole history of that hurricane), and they're ready to take the dogs and head for high ground. (Hopefully high ground.) My sister Mary, soon to be a grandmother, is heading for her daughter's house. (Luckily, "Grandma" is a nurse, in case baby Leah makes any surprise moves.) My nieces's husband is a firefighter, on duty until the hurricane threat passes. Another sister, plus a brother and his family, have their destinations in northern Louisiana.
But we're still praying Gustave away. Praying really hard.
You can read my Katrina archives here.