How much do you take for granted?

What do you take for granted?  And more importantly, whom do you take for granted?

Recent events in the state of Florida, where I live, have caused me to contemplate these questions.  We moved here nearly eight years ago, and, up until this last round, we have been traveling – and safely away from = any of the major tropical storms and hurricanes that have threatened our part of the Sunshine State. This time, our luck ran out.

Let me say right away that we have been very fortunate.  Our losses and hardships have been minimal compared to millions of others.  Mostly, we’ve been inconvenienced by loss of power and internet.  In the hurricane that hit at the end of September, our area experienced an unprecedented storm surge (over six feet vs previous record under four feet) destroyed our brand-new car.  But it’s only a car.

The interesting thing about events like this one is how it brings out the best in people.  Neighbors that previously might just wave or smile a hello stopped to ask how things were going, and how they could help.  What do you need?  Can I offer a ride?  There is an immediate sense of community – we’re all in this together – that can feel very comforting and reassuring.

As for me, the number of people that reached out by phone, text or email (even though some of it took a while to get through) was humbling and heartening. It became a welcome distraction to keep up with the updates and answering questions from people, some of whom I hadn’t heard from in a very long time.

The second hurricane, Milton, that followed on the heels of the first, Helene, was much worse in some ways.  Friends and relatives from around the country pleaded with us to “get out,” offering their homes as safe haven. Certainly, more people took the evacuation order seriously, including us.

By the time we made the decision to leave, flights were pretty much booked and we knew the airports would close in advance of the storm, so we were lefts with the option to drive somewhere. It took four and a half hours to travel 80 miles to relative safety in Orlando – still in the path of the hurricane, but away from storm surge and flooding. When the storm hit in the middle of the night, it was pretty frightening, even though we were in a building that could withstand the force.

Even though we waited an extra day, returning home took another four and a half hours.  The night without power was beyond dark.  There was no adjusting to it, just a total blackness.  It made me anxious, and I couldn’t wait for the night to pass, even though I slept an unprecedented nine hours from shear mental and emotional exhaustion.

Things have been nearly restored to normal for us, our city of St Petersburg took a major hit.  You’ve all seen the videos and pictures of the giant crane that collapsed (even scarier to look at in person), the roof being ripped off Tropicana Field (very eerie-looking) and the heart-breaking devastation of our beautiful beaches. With homes and businesses destroyed, people misplaced, jobs lost, the cost of these storms is nearly immeasurable.  Our hears all go out to those impacted, and again, we know how fortunate we are.

It has helped to write this out and thank you for indulging me as I shared it. The real lesson for us all is to ask  the questions I posed in the beginning.  We all take our lives, our families and friends, our homes, power and internet, our cars, our roads, our beautiful trees for granted to some extent.

Today, take a moment to feel gratitude for what you have.  Remember that people matter more than things do. I appreciate you. Be safe, be well, be happy.