Anyone who has spent any time in Florida, or along another southern coastline, has at one time or another been awestruck at the overwhelming power and potential devastation of a thunderstorm. If you lived in such an area for any length of time, chances are good that you also experienced a hurricane of some intensity.
I spent my formative years in the central Florida east coast region, living on a man-made peninsula, surrounded by canals. The growth in that area due to the Kennedy Space Center was tremendous, and waterfront property drew the biggest dollar, so many subdivisions were literally created out of marshy areas by dumping huge quantities of earth, sand, and seashells into a seawall. Our house was built on one of these peninsulas. Oh, and did I mention that the elevation was, at best, sea level? Many areas were below that level.
The storms were legendary, and especially so in the summer. I was terribly afraid of these storms, and when a hurricane was even in the general Florida forecast, my fright went into overdrive. My child-size brain feared personal injury, which was reasonable. What was less reasonable was my obsessive need to put all of my stuff (shoes, toys, anything on or near the floor), on a small couch in my room, or on my desk or dresser, to avoid floodwaters.
Thinking back on this childhood obsession, I guess I thought higher was better. And as a postscript, we never did have a flood in that house, despite constant summer storms and a number of mild hurricanes passing through the area. If only other areas of Florida had been so lucky.
This post is part of the Brave, Bold, Blogger Challenge (BBBC) issued by my moto-blog friend Kathy, aka ToadMamaToadmama, to cover 28 blog prompts in the month of February. And good for undisciplined me, no rules either.
Prompt: Strange thing you believed as a kid