He's Like Chattanooga Tennessee in the Middle of Hurricane Summer

I remember in the summer of 2004 when we were horribly stricken by a barrage of dangerous hurricanes here in Florida. It was rather nerve destroying. In August we ended up having to evacuate when a real monster was forecast to roar right up the mouth of the bay and lay us to waste. Still struggling with a lesser beast that had already made landfall, my husband and I packed the car in the middle of the night, wading through water to get to our driveway. Our entire front lawn was flooded by the time we packed up the kids and left early that morning. We couldn't help but notice that the wake came within inches of our porch every time a car drove past the house. Yeah, we had our flood insurance documents sealed in a watertight bag in our luggage, but it was still an upsetting sight. It was hard to leave, but we had little reasonable choice as we were in charge of the safety of little children. We drove north to Tennessee. We stopped at a couple of hotels when we started to get tired, but they were full. Though we saw all the Florida license plates in the parking lot, we still went in to check, but there were no vacancies until we got to Chattanooga.

I thought of our little house we loved so much for most of the drive north. I thought of the family members who refused to evacuate (my son, I wanted my son and I even considered doing something that the law would have deemed a kidnapping, but I respect him too much to override his free will). I also felt like a refugee. I really did. I was a person fleeing my home, which had become dangerous, and seeking asylum in a strange place that was not my own home. I felt like an outsider - a beggar, even. And then something happened. First, I realized that this was ridiculous. There are no travel restrictions between the states here in the U.S. We are all one country and there is free travel. And -- I remembered deep down inside that I, my children, and my husband are all Americans and we can go wherever we please within the borders of our own country. And then something even better happened. We were welcomed in Tennessee. The people were all so kind and understanding of our plight and they were very nice to us. It was a safe place to be when our own home had become dangerous.

And this brings me to the Dream Mother (a.k.a. Old Guy). The little girl loves him and needs him very, very much. I freaked after Christmas and ended up in a maniacal sort of state and then I crash landed (as usual) and it wasn't pleasant. Enter Jenny who had been missing for so long. She showed up to speak for the little girl. Long story short, she managed to reconnect us. Yes, the Dream Mother lives. And so does the little girl. And now I can get up out of bed again. I can breathe and do things. Communicating the need was difficult, but the message was finally clear enough to be received. Anyway, the whole struggle explains this communication from Jenny on behalf of the little girl who desperately fought her way through the chaos to get to her mother via Jenny:



Thank you, Jenny. I do want to live. I really do.