If you live in hurricane-prone territory, you have a Go Box. It’s got all the hurricane evacuation basics. A little extra cash, hand-sanitizing wipes, power bars, water bottles, some first-aid gear, medicines, pet supplies, a few food staples, Kleenex and so on.. It’s at the ready when/if evacuation becomes mandatory.
Here, on the coast of South Carolina, deep in hurricane land, we all have one. Sure, there’s more to do at the last minute but those Go Boxes give us a jump start on our trip to safety.
As a friend said recently, we know how to leave. We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again.
But right now, we’re learning how to stay.
Hurricanes have defined edges. They’re scary but the end is in sight. The attack zone is identified. A safe place is within driving distance. We hope for the best and we plan for the worst.
This virus we’re dealing with has no discernable parameters. We have no idea what it’s likely to bring our way. Or when, how, and where it will end.
So we have, in our house, a Stay Box. It looks a lot like a Go Box only bigger. Much bigger. There may be more wine in it than in the Go Box. Certainly, more food, more supplies.
If we could, we’d leave, of course. Get outta here. Go where it’s safe. Where the virus isn’t. Gather up the Go Box, the cats and hop in the car. But, that won’t work this time so we stay put and, just as with hurricanes, we hope for the best and we plan for the worst.