Irene
I saw our neighbors leaving, packing
up their minivan; I didn’t think it seemed all that bad. Our power only had just gone out and I was
still painting my nails. The color,
power outage pink, I thought was quite fitting.
I had never experienced something of this magnitude, something that
could potentially damage my home, my town, and my life. I was worried although trying my best to not
show it. My dad went out to talk to
them, wearing a poncho over his Carhartt pants, and thick rubber work boots. He came back soaking wet even with all of his
protective clothing. They were leaving
before they were demanded to do so.
That’s when I got the saddest command that made me feel helpless and
weak.
“Get a few things together, we’ll
find a place to go” my dad said.
“Why can’t we stay? It isn’t that
bad, we barely just lost power. What’s
going to happen to us?” I answered.
“We have to leave before the storm
gets too bad and we are trapped.” I
responded with silence, I didn’t know what to say. I had never been evacuated; the weather had
never been bad enough. I didn’t know
what to pack. What could I not live
without? I looked around my room
realizing that I might not ever see my room again. I saw my bed, my pictures, and even my Jonas
Brother’s poster. I don’t think I ever
truly appreciated all that I had, all that I was blessed with. I had always had a home, my family close by,
pretty much whatever I needed and most of what I wanted. I was holding back tears as I packed, as I
packed my memories away, or said goodbye to them for what could be forever. I only had moments before I shut my bedroom
door, put my rain boots on, and got in the car.
It was just in time as we later found out.
We
found refuge at my dad’s co-worker’s house but not before we passed bridges and
roads closed, parking lots filled with water, and the roaring river as it came
ever closer to wiping out the only street left in town. It had never taken us this long to get to
Shaftsbury; it was like rush hour in the city.
My dad even ran a red light on the way there; I suppose he was just as
nervous as I was.
Mike
Lilly however had power, little rain, and a police scanner which was
tremendously helpful as it provided
background noise to the overwhelming silence as well as much needed information. He was upbeat about the weather and assured
us that it wasn’t more than a few inches of rain.
“It isn’t too bad, would you
say? I think the rains last spring were
more than this” Mike joked. He was a
jolly looking man, with a round belly and a white beard. He could possibly play Santa Claus at the
upcoming Christmas program. He had been
a firefighter and as it appeared could not be frightened. It was there, at his house, that we waited
out the storm. We talked, we ate, and we
watched T.V. With my family around me I
felt at home, I felt safe as if nothing could hurt us. Just as the rains eventually ceased so did my
worries.
We did get to go home later that
night, and what a happy homecoming it was.
We were all glad to be back under our own roof. Even better… there was no damage, not any at
all.
As
we unpacked my dad asked, “So what did you think of the hurricane?”
My
answer was confident, and unwavering, “I’m glad it’s over, but thankful it
came.”
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