While driving around town and running errands, I still see the blue tarps on rooftops. I see the uprooted trees. I see the boarded-up windows. I see the broken restaurant signs. But I also see the newly renovated homes. The repaired restaurants. The mended fences. The clean-up crews. The construction workers. I see all the signs that this town survived a hurricane. But we are still recovering. And yet, another hurricane season starts today. I clearly underestimated the amount of time it would take for businesses and homes to bounce back… There is no “bouncing back.” It’s one house.. one business… one city park… recovering. One at a time.
With a new hurricane season here and the recovery process still all around me, I’d like to share my Harvey story.
Monday, August 21, 2017
I get groceries and stock up on all of our essentials today.
With school starting and a possible tropical storm headed to the Gulf coast, I want to make sure we are well-stocked. I’m wary about what is to come, but weather stations, meteorologists, and even friends who have first-hand experience with tropical storms and hurricanes all reassure me that it will be okay.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
The kids start school today. Kindergarten and 5th grade. They are so excited and motivated to get things rolling. We have a great first day.
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
“Tropical Depression Harvey is expected to become a tropical storm as it moves towards the lower-mid Texas coast.” This is what we are being told. My mind…. my “worst-case scenario” mind tells me to pack a bag.
Be prepared to stick it out. Be prepared to evacuate. Be prepared.
We have food, water, batteries and a weather radio. I pack 2 bags with essentials and clothes. Kevin clears off the patio and ties down the rocking chairs. And we wait for another update on what we might should do next. I hate the waiting.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
At 4:51 AM, I wake up and check my phone. The storm is now being predicted to be a CAT 1 or even a CAT 2 by the time it makes landfall. I nudge Kevin and say his name to see if he’s awake. I want to make a decision. I need to know what we should do. He’s knocked out. I fall back to sleep with my head spinning. By the time I wake up again, have my shower and make breakfast, they are saying it could possibly even be a Category 3.
In that moment, I know in my heart that it will be a CAT 4. I know it.
That’s all it takes. “We will evacuate.”
Kevin and I swing into action. Within minutes, he finds a hotel in Waco that accepts pets. He books it for the next 6 nights. We will be safe there. He hurries to finish up some work. I hurry to finish packing.
The weather radio is blaring in the background.
“A hurricane warning has been issued for the counties of…”
Coffee.. We need coffee.. I make coffee.
My heart is beating out of my chest. I am running around the apartment getting things together. Crossing things off my list. Evan does great. He plays on his LeapPad and lets us all do what we need to do.
Leala jumps in to help me. I give her short orders of what to do. “Bring me this. Bring me that. Get another ziploc bag.” She’s a champ. Every now and then, a pause finds us, and I have a split second to look at her face. A mix of fear and determination. She keeps going. That’s my girl.
We all keep going. We all do our part. Like a machine. Working together to a common goal.
To get the hell out of there.
Clothes and shoes. Check. Toiletries and medicines. Check. Snacks, food and water. Check. Laptop, camera, electronics, chargers, batteries. Check. Games and books. Check. Favorite cuddle toys (Chase and Sasha). Check. Cat and all the cat things. Check. Important documents. Check.
What if everything we leave behind is destroyed?
Most favorite crystals and oracle cards. Check.
Kevin packs the Edge tighter than we have ever before. (Thanks to his time in the US Navy and our 8 moves after he got out, we have become packing masters).
Everything is in the car. All outside items are brought in, including the rocking chairs we had previously tied down. All electronics are unplugged and put up in a higher place. Towels are placed by the 2 outside doors. A yoga mat is cut and inserted under each of those doors to help fill in any gaps. I never did get to drink that coffee. I pour it out. Everyone pees.
Time to go.
I look up at the wall with all of the school posters I had just hung up for the new school year. The kids just started school 2 days ago. And here we are fleeing our home.
“Goodbye apartment. Please don’t flood. Windows, please don’t break… Please.”
I’ve never left a place with the feelings I had that day. It was a hurricane of emotions. Fear. Accomplishment. Guilt. Worry. Pride. Validation. Hope. Determination. Desperation.
We had done it. We had packed up everything we could. We were ahead of the curve. We were getting our family to safety. But now, we had a 3.5 hour drive to make.
Traffic wasn’t bad. We had done well. We left early enough. No insanely long lines. No getting stuck on the highway. No sitting in the car with 2 kids and a cat at a dead stop for hours on end.
We had some rain. Some slow drivers every now and then. Some hills. Some hay bales. Some cows. Some horses. Some trees and fields and ponds. Some snacks. Some singing. Some “Are we there, yet?”
We made it.
“Waco, Texas, I’ve never been so happy to see you.”
We check into our hotel room that we rightfully nicknamed our “Safe Haven.” The mood has lifted some. We’re safe. We get Legacy, our cat, settled in and head out for dinner.
Perk of evacuating: restaurants we don’t have in Victoria. Applebees, I have missed you.
We are seated. We order. I get my phone out to text my sisters and let them know we made it. I check Facebook first for an update.
“Mandatory Evacuation for Victoria County.” Just posted. 20 minutes ago.
I can’t believe it.
We made the right choice. We knew we should leave and we did. BEFORE the evacuation. BEFORE things got bad. BEFORE the rush. We did it.
My heart hurts for those who didn’t. Who are now scrambling to get their belongings together. Who are stuck on a dark road in a line of cars. Who wish they would have left sooner.
My heart breaks for those who don’t leave. Who don’t want to leave. Who have no choice.
I sit here, in shock and eat my dinner. I taste nothing. I stare at my kids’ faces. “We are safe.” I have to keep telling myself that.
Kevin and I share a moment. Our eyes meet and we stare at one another… we do not speak a word, but our eyes are saying the same thing. “Holy f*ck… this is actually happening.”
We go back to the hotel and we go to bed, knowing that we are safe. But I can’t sleep. I’m awake. Constantly checking my phone for updates.
“We are safe.”
To be continued..
Part 2 – Harvey – In The Path
Part 3 – Harvey – Going Home
Part 4 – Harvey – Recovery
