Today, I’m writing with the Five Minute Friday community writing group, and this week’s word is CROWD. If you’d like to join in (or just to read other great bloggers’ work), the linkup is here.
Last week, the meteorologists predicted a beast of a hurricane to blast the coast of North and South Carolina. Initially, it was charging the coast as a Category 4 like a Jurassic-sized tortoise, at under ten miles per hour. My sister called me, just after my husband and I decided to open our home to any willing refugee family members living in Wilmington. She asked if she could drive her two girls to our house, ages ten and eleven, before she was placed on lockdown at the main hospital there. It’s been nearly a week, and blessedly, we have not seen nor felt nearly the ravages that most people who stayed in Wilmington have. Thankfully, my parents, brother, and grandparents are safe despite staying. Their homes neither flooded nor had trees crash on them, but they’re stuck in Wilmington. All roads in and out are blocked by walls of water. Wilmington has become an island. A crowded one. Our house has a few more girls than usual, but I’m thankful they’re here and not adding to the crowd there.