How old do I have to be before my mom quits calling to tell me a storm is headed my way? I'm forty-six years old, for crying out loud! And every time it storms here, my mom, who has seen the report on the weather channel, calls to warn me.
Someday rescuers will find my cold carcass, cell phone locked in my hand. They will pry the phone out of my stiff fingers only to hear my mother giving me the details on the direction and duration of the storm and advising me of the precautions I should take for safety.
(Any family reading this better not breathe a word of this to my mommy. I might make fun of this in public, but secretly, her calling makes me feel beloved. As a matter of fact, I wish everyone, no matter how old, had someone who called when a storm was approaching.)