My best friend is on his way up tomorrow from our hometown in Georgia, running away from Irma. I had to call my Grandmother last night and leave a long, detailed message for her about evacuating. My Aunt told me I needed to talk to her cuz she did not want to leave.
When you’re 82 and as stubborn as the man in the moon, you think water ain’t wet. By the time I was done speaking on her answering machine, I was sure I’d get some form of some kind of whippin’ the next time she sees me. She’s gonna evacuate, though. My Dad called to tell me.
I wasn’t playing with her.
I’m so happy you are writing more. So, so happy.