Storm Life

The end of the workday is nearing. Dinner is being prepared. I plan to welcome him home with a hot meal. I’ve spent the day alone with our fur-babies and waiting for his “on my way home” call is one of the better parts of my day.

Oftentimes that call comes with an entirely different tone. “Pack my storm bag.”

In that moment, the familiarity of those words begins to settle in again and disaster is confirmed. Hurricane? A tornado? Severe thunderstorms with high winds? Each of these has its own potential timeline, though none set in stone. 

I pull out his Carhartt duffle, filling it with anything he could possibly need - a million thoughts running through my mind with each item. 


“How long will he be gone?

I’ll miss the warmth of his body at night, no matter the length of time. 

Contact solution and glasses. 

God, please keep my husband safe. 

Did I already pack his phone charger?

These men are the definition of selflessness - the unsung heroes. 

How many silly things will go wrong while he’s away? (It’s inevitable.)

Batteries. 

Look how organized I am. This bag will come home a total train wreck. 

A note on top, so he knows how loved he is.

Man, I’ll miss him.”


As I watch him throw that Carhartt over his shoulder, my heart is proud but sinking at the same time. You see, this life is hard to understand if you’ve never lived it. The money is a perk, but the worry is greater. 


10PM approaches.. then midnight.. it’s 2AM. I fall asleep with my phone in my hands. Often that first “I’m safe” call or text doesn’t come for hours. Nap a little. Repeat. 


Each time he drives away, I know he’s headed to restore a family’s life and, in that same instance, I know that ours will continue to be blessed. 

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