This must just be a passing storm. The clouds elevating above our heads will soon drift away to who knows where, as long as it is not here. I promise you we will make it through.
So if the lightning starts to strike, let go of my hand.
If the winds get too strong, follow them to wherever they may lead.
And if the rain starts pouring to the point where I cannot see you, just yell.
But if the thunder gets too loud, if it turns your yell into a mere whisper, do not worry.
Just go.
Save yourself.

We will meet again, even if we end up on the yellow bricks of Munchkin Land.