The river doesn't ask you if you're ready before it floods. You either find higher ground, or you learn to swim damn fast. I used to curse the storms that uprooted me. Now I see they were pruning shears, cutting away the deadwood I clung to. The new growth is always stronger. Sometimes the high ground isn't a place, it's a state of mind. A quiet knowing that even submerged, the roots are still drawing strength from the earth.