It could’ve been us.
Twice.
Last year, an F3 tornado almost hit our house. The funnel cloud passed right over us. Imagine our surprise recently as another tornado warning went off at our new home. While we were hiding in a closet, severe winds were ripping apart houses across town. People lost everything, and they’re just now talking about it. The destruction here has gone unnoticed in the larger vortex of chaos and loss.
Every now and then, my family has the conversation.
We talk about the future.
We talk about the futures we could’ve lived, and what kind of future we have to prepare for now. We talk about the futures other people, sometimes even us, are still haunted by, ghost futures. It’s not a pleasant talk.
Our daughter probably won’t go to college.
She’ll need a different skill set.
Neither I nor my spouse nor any of our friends will get to retire. We’ll count ourselves lucky if we even make it to our 60s, provided disaster and disease don’t take us…