There’s no hurricane where I am.

There’s no ferris wheel, either.

I’m afraid of heights….so a ferris wheel isn’t a joyride for me….but it would really stink to be one of the forgotten up on the high part of the arc, screaming to be let down….”LET ME DOWN!! LET ME DOWN!!….while the wind whipped the giant erector set back and forth….me, alone, while the birds hid from a sky too dangerous to insinuate themselves into.

That would really stink to be on a ferris wheel.

It would stink more than it usually stinks to be on a ferris wheel.

There’s no ferris wheel here.

But…we went to Carowinds on Saturday to celebrate my youngest son’s eighth birthday and the hotel is full of refugees this Sunday morning…..people from the coast of South Carolina….even some from Florida…racing away from the path of the unknown….racing towards sanctuary.

The path of the hurricane changed….moving from the heart of Miami to blowing through the center of Tampa…and I’m up early…sitting in the lobby of the hotel….drinking coffee…watching TV…typing.

I’m doing what I’d be doing at home!

What a creature of habit.

I guess that the only difference is that I can make even less noise up in the hotel room than I do  in the mountains where we live….so I couldn’t shave or even find my glasses…. I’m scruffy and blind and, like most days for some reason, up way too early.

I have it pretty easy, though.

Heavy rain is forecasted for Monday and I expect a hard day of work at the Post Office, but, compared to most of these refugees, the day should be fairly uneventful.

Heavy rain and relatively light wind isn’t something that I haven’t dealt with before.

I guess that in some ways I am a refugee, though.

While the other people in my family sleep upstairs in our hotel room, crammed into a space about the size of our bedroom at home, I’m excommunicated….caffeinated….alone except for the hotel staff and the people coming through for a very early check-out.

I am separate…and surrounded by other people.

That’s how I roll.

I don’t know which way the wind blows.

When nature puts her hard finger down to stir the pot, I don’t know what the final result is going to be.

What’s nature going to cook up next for us?