Update on the m'f'ing flood in Memphis

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She was calm and kind, even though she knew she was now known as "The Mother------ Lady" around town and even though her home had been destroyed again. A fifth time.

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"Can I have a hug?" I asked.
"Oh! I was just about to ask you the same thing," she jumped up from her seat.
We squeezed each other tightly. I told her I wanted to take a selfie together, but only if she would wipe her misty-eyes and smile for a moment. She agreed.
When we let go of each other, she returned to her seat and her styrofoam cup. I told her I'd keep an eye on her from the live truck until her ride showed up. I asked her to stay safe, too. "Oh, I will," she assured me, patting the elongated black camping-chair style bag next to her. "Got my 12-gauge right here."
I tried not to react, but I must have made a face or something.
"Oh, don't be nervous," she smiled. I wasn't, I told her. After all, we were just having a conversation, and the FCC was not listening to the two of us.

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