A Storm of Tears
For miles there is no one. Not one car, bike, person, nothing. Not even a bird gliding in the air.
Nothing looks the same. Trees are stripped bare. The ocean’s floor is scattered everywhere.
Tears are pouring down my face.
There is a house on the gulf side of the road. It used to be on the ocean side.
Beachside homes never seen before rise through the ghosts of trees that have died.
Tears are drenching my shirt.
The “things” that represent a person’s life are piled up on the sides of the road.
Waiting to be taken away, dotting the miles with load after load.
Tears are drowning me.
Flashback to my life after Wilma when it was my “things” waiting to be removed.
Waiting for the trash man to take them away, hoping my hurt could be some-what soothed.
Tears are blinding me.
I know lives are about to change. I am one of the lucky ones, but I feel like a lost soul.
I wander through the next weeks, wondering when I will once again feel whole.
Tears are confusing me.
I begin to learn about those who lost so much—those who just want to get up and run…
Run far from their new reality. It doesn’t compare to what we experienced with the “other one”.
Tears are scaring me.
Almost a year and many are not back in their homes. They fight to get back what they deserve.
Fighting insurance. Finding someone to work on their house. Who is available to serve?
Tears still come.
There are glimmers of hope as houses get done and the tents and RV’s go away.
We will celebrate people moving back into their homes in a big way.
Tears of joy will come.
As time goes on, the storm of emotions will end as lives renew.
But there is no forgetting what we have been through.
Tears will fade away.