Searching...

This morning, as I was scrambling to get my things ready to leave for work, I went hunting my purple gym bag. I’m trying swimming after work with a friend and I wanted to put all my stuff – the bathing suit, towel, etc. – in the purple gym bag to carry with me to work. I looked high and low in the room at mother’s but couldn’t find it. Then it hit. Yep, it’s been 9 months and I still have these moments.

I don’t know which is worse, that I still have such moments, or that it’s been 9 months since I went looking for my gym bag – yikes!

It’s so strange. I have at least one of these moments each week. I’ll look for something and can’t find it only to realize oh yeah, it was lost in the flood. Or I’ll see something that triggers a memory of something I hadn’t yet thought of that I lost. Or I’ll be reminded of something I’d already thought of but had pushed back in my mind. It’s awful – with so much good stuff happening around us now to have the constant reminders of what we lost.

I worry about moving back in the house, which should be any day now. Soon. Very soon. I worry that as I start living in the house I’ll start having more of these moments. I’ll start going to the closet where I kept something only to remember oh yeah, it’s not there now. Or I’ll sit in my living room and look around realizing that while everything is nice and new and pretty, something is missing. Oh yeah, furniture.

And still, 9 months after that stupid hurricane, we still talk about it almost daily. I long for the day that it is no longer part of our daily lives. That Ike is no longer part of our daily vocabulary. That we can run into someone we haven’t seen in a while and the conversation doesn’t automatically turn to tales of evacuations, sludge, insurance adjusters and rebuilding.

At what point does the remembering end and the storm really become part of our past instead of our present?

Preparing for the big move

It's been a while I know - and I will post pictures of the remodel soon and catch up on the entire process of recovering from Ike. But for now, here's a look at the process of getting ready to move back home.

I was asked earlier if it’s exciting or overwhelming to be buying the stuff to fill my home again. That’s a tough one. It’s no one emotion – but rather a whole package of emotions ranging from sad to excited to worried.

For those catching up – I went shopping this weekend. It was the first marathon weekend of shopping for things like appliances and furniture and all the little essentials you need when moving into an empty house. Think moving out of the dorm and into your own place for the first time, without roommates to split things with.

It’s exciting because I get to shape the inside of my house and make it feel like a home. I get to fill it with items I choose, and place them accordingly. I get a do-over on home décor. I get to look at furniture I always wanted but had run out of room for because I had already spent years collecting different pieces. It’s exciting because it’s evidence that life is returning to something resembling normal; that I will be moving back into my own house after all. It’s that sigh of relief that six months ago was hard to see ever coming.

At the same time, it’s sad. Mom and I hit the antique stores around Houston on Saturday and it seems that at each one, I found some piece that reminded me of one I lost. My dining room table. My chairs. My armoire. My collection of little birthday angels my mom and dad bought me each year until I was about 14 or 15 I think. Glass bluebirds I gave my grandmother and friends gave me. Little things here and there that just peel back the wounds enough to make it hurt all over again.

Then there’s the overwhelming worry of whether I’ll have enough money to do all that I need to do. And we are talking about the needs list. I have a list of what I NEED to move in with and a list of what I WANT. The needs list is long and difficult. It’s hard to think of all those little things and try to make a budget when you keep thinking of one more kitchen or bathroom item you need. Basic things like spatulas and colanders and towels and pot holders and such. Extension cords and light bulbs and a screwdriver. Then it’s the big ticket items that still haven’t been resolved – bed, window coverings, doorknobs and locks. So many things to remember and that add up. Like ceiling fans. I bought ceiling fans this weekend but had forgotten to put those in the budget. I worry those three or four hundred dollar items here and there will suck my account dry and leave me in the hole. It’s so much to keep up with - it’s like a full time job.

It would be very easy to grow bitter and annoyed that as a single woman, I’ve done this twice now. First when I moved out of my parents’ house when I graduated college and into my own apartment. And now, as I prepare to move out of mom’s house, again, and into my own place. Unlike the celebration of wedding or a new baby’s arrival, there is no gift registry for the return home after natural disaster wipes you out. I wonder if there’s a Hallmark card for that – there should be a card for that. Maybe I’ll write Hallmark later...

But all in all, despite the worry, it’s all good. There’s no bitterness. No self-pity. I’m lucky after all. I still have my house. I had some insurance. And I have supportive friends who’ve been encouraging along the way. I’ll be in my house soon. My own house. My home. And in time, this will all be a distant memory, a chapter in my life’s story, and a reminder that I am as strong as I think I am.

Hope from a surprise homecoming

Have you ever stopped to wonder if the universe is just waiting to surprise you? I received the biggest piece of hope I've seen since the storm turned my life upside down.

I stopped by my house this afternoon after work to check my mail—the mail forward has expired and until it is renewed, I'm on regular mail checks. Until this afternoon, this was just a typical day of the new normal in life post-Ike. But then, as I stepped in to my yard, I heard it. The jingle of Outside Kitty's collar. A week shy of four months since Ike hit, and Outside Kitty comes home. I could barely believe it when I saw her come prancing out from beneath my porch, screaming at me to feed her. I couldn't contain myself. Tears of joy and relief streamed down my face and I assured her that I would be back this evening with a dish and food for her. And there she was, waiting for me when I returned with fresh food.

I have no idea where she has spent the past four months, but I'm eternally grateful to whoever has fed her. I had given up on her. Cried tears over what I could have only assumed was a painful and sad death to a wonderfully sweet kitty. And today, she returns to the place she first strayed some 5 or 6 years ago. For those unfamiliar, Outside Kitty is my calico cat who lives outside, as her name suggests. I tried numerous times to bring her inside, only to be rejected. The one night I did secure her in my laundry room during a storm, she freaked out. I like to think she's simply claustrophobic and likes her life of freedom on the streets. She would walk with the dogs and me, following us for about 4 blocks where she would simply stop. But she would always be there waiting when we were on our way back. And she would follow us home, walking behind us in the gutter, stepping to the curb anytime a car came by.

A part of me held out hope that she had found a home and was being cared for by someone who cared as much as I did for her, or even better because I did after all leave her behind during the storm. It wasn't for lack of trying, though. She simply disappeared before we evacuated and was no where to be seen when it came time to leave. I remember sobbing uncontrollably on the way out of town knowing I'd left her behind to face that certain death the weather forecasters were predicting for those staying behind. Then sobbing again when I knew how much water was on my street and wondering if she'd found a safe place as she had so many times before. A part of me did hold out hope, but I also accepted the reality that she most likely had died in the storm. I called the shelter looking for her, nothing. I watched my house to see if she would show up. But she never did.

Then today, the biggest sign of hope in a long while walked out from beneath the shell of my house. There is something about that moment when you give up hope that lets the universe know it's time for a renewal of the spirit. Just when you think you can't go on, or it's time to give up, something always comes along and reminds us it isn't all that bad. That if we just hold out that little bit of hope, we can always be pleasantly surprised at the kindness of fate if we give it a chance. You simply never know what pleasant surprises will be waiting when you walk up your steps each day. I'm glad I got that reminder today. I needed it.

The new normal

It's been a while, but it's been a tough couple of weeks for sure. I turned 37 a week ago today and it was a quiet event. Today, though, I received in the mail a gift from an old friend. It was a copy of "The Giving Tree," a book I had once given him and a book that was among those lost to the flood waters. It was one of the best birthday gifts I've ever received and it will always be a reminder to me of what really matters most in all this - the relationships I have with the dearest of friends.

It's hard sometimes to keep that in mind as everything stands still. I'm at a stalling point with the house, just waiting on money and a personal decision about what to do with it. My job is in limbo. Rumor is I might start working from home a little bit in a few weeks. Rumor is my building might reopen sometime around Thanksgiving. Rumor is there still could be massive layoffs and UTMB is hosting job fairs and resource centers for employees. Meanwhile, the paychecks keep getting deposited through Nov. 14, hopefully.

It is nearly impossible to describe the past six weeks of my life. I never imagined that when mother and I left town that morning of Sept. 12, that I was leaving behind life as I knew it. Everything changed. Everything. It's not just the stuff that is gone, it is a way of life that has changed significantly. I'm a border in my mother's house, trying not to invade her space with what stuff I do happen to have. Trying not to invade her routine more than necessary. It's a challenge.

My entire daily routine is different. Unlike some folks who seem to be bored without work everyday, I have managed to find multiple ways to occupy my time. I'd like to go back to work just as a reassurance that I still have a job, but I have discovered I do not need a job to identify who I am.

While some progress is being made, so much is still left to be done. Driving through some neighborhoods this evening after dark was an almost eerie experience. Entire neighborhoods completely dark. No lights on at houses. No street lights. Just empty areas. We drove through the Strand district tonight - that's our downtown shopping and business district that was so hard hit by the storm. It's like a ghost town, probably like what it was like 25 years ago before its revitalization. Trash and debris blew through the empty streets that typically would have people walking them. Police patrolled the streets on the lookout for shady characters and trouble in an area of town so deserted. It was sad to see.

I know the future will be better and I know we can't go back. But living in limbo and living in the present moment of Galveston right now is not easy. We can go a day or two without thinking much about what's going on, doing what so many people have and nearly forget that 6 weeks ago we were struck by one of the single worst hurricanes in our history. But then we drive down a different street or run into someone we haven't seen since we've been back and it's a sad reminder of how far we still have to go to reach normal.

I'll try to post some pictures soon of what the island looks like these days. I've been negligent in that - guess I've just been trying to escape myself. I'm just grateful for the good friends who have been there during this, to listen to me rant about whatever needs ranting that day, and who've helped me smile when I thought nothing but tears lay ahead. To the friends, who like Tree, ask for nothing in return, Thank you.

Take care.

Hope

While cleaning out the garage Thursday morning, I came upon my Obama campaign sign. I had tucked it in the garage for safety during the storm and it’s muddy and a little bent and missing the metal stakes to keep it in the ground, but it is now resting on my porch again, its big letters proclaiming HOPE for all to see. I thought it a fitting sign to put up when we were done with about half of the garage.

As I was going through the pile of stuff, trying to figure out what could be cleaned and what just needed to be told so long, I kept trying to find that place where you can see light again. It’s getting hard. We’re definitely making progress and moving forward, but still, you have to wonder about things.

Each year, I take stock of my life in the weeks leading up to my birthday. I look at where I am, and where I want to be, and figure out how to make up the difference between the two. This year is a tough one. I look at my life, pieces of a home strewn across my curb, and I wonder if this is supposed to be a sign or a message. Granted, those who know me well know I don’t believe in signs. Life is what it is and the only reason something happens is the reason we assign it. I’ve said that before and I stand by it. Yet I’m forced to wonder.

For years, I’ve been looking at a way to escape. To run off on some great adventure. But I always had something holding me back – my house, my mother, my work obligations. But now, with mom doing well on her own, my work an uncertain future and a house filled with nothing to move, do I take this as the sign that now is the time to pack up and move on for something? What I can’t identify. Where I’m not quite sure. Why, I have no idea. I just can’t help but wonder, is the hope I’m looking for in the opportunity presenting itself to me and will that opportunity be lost or wasted? Or is the true hope and strength to be found in staying and rebuilding and being part of something bigger?

I was reading my new Oprah magazine tonight and in her column “What I know for sure” Oprah lists about 20 or so of her top thoughts and life rules. I can agree with every one of them, but at the end, I wonder, what do I know for sure? After sorting through my life’s story in collected keepsakes and water-soaked photos, I can only say I know for sure that hope is the only thing to keep us going. In whatever form it takes.

Adjusting to a new way of life

Returning home wasn’t the sigh of relief I expected to feel being back on my island. I didn’t expect life to be like it was, but I certainly wasn’t expecting what I’m finding. It’s a new way of living and it will take a bit of adjusting.

Mom and I returned to Galveston on Saturday after spending 3 weeks in San Antonio, far removed from the reality of life back in Galveston. But seeing the seemingly never-ending piles of rubble in front of house after house is a sad reminder of what the storm has left behind. And after hearing grim news from my employer today, I wonder if we’ve really seen the worst of Ike’s damage, or if more is yet to come.

Every business seems to have a “now hiring” sign up, trying to replace employees who couldn’t wait for their jobs and had to find new ones. What businesses are open have limited hours. Restaurants close before 7 p.m. You have to wait in line at Wal-Mart and Target just to get in the store because there isn’t enough staff to accommodate free-flowing traffic inside. Tonight, Wal-Mart was closed at 7 because the crowd inside would take at least 2 hours to clear out and the store closes at 9. So at 7, no more people were let in.

Trying to get someone by to fix a leaky toilet or something minor, yet annoying, as that, is virtually impossible. And I think you can tell that people’s patience is wearing thin. I’m again reminded how strong those folks must have been in 1900. I’m beginning to wonder if I have what it takes to endure the transition back to normal, not knowing how long that will take. Or should we just give up on the idea of normal as we once knew it and accept life on Galveston Island is something new.

I know city leaders are trying to promote that the island is fast on its way to recovery, and even have two major events planned for the fall. But it’s hard to see that recovery when my appliances remain on my curb, waiting to be picked up. Or when you continue to drive through your neighborhood and see all the signs of so much extensive damage. I drove through last night after dark and there were very few houses with people in them – only the empty shells with piles of worldly possessions, sheetrock and AC duct work sitting on the curb.

Life right now for me is a series of tasks all aimed at moving forward. Today, I spent 3 hours with the folks at the Texas Windstorm Association so I could get an advance on my windstorm coverage’s evacuations costs. I’m finally starting to see some of the aid and insurance money coming in, but still, it’s overwhelming to try and figure out a budget for spending it. What comes first? Clothes, since the only clothes I have are the ones I evacuate with and what I purchased in San Antonio. Or should I pay my outstanding bills for cleanup? Do I try to find somewhere else to live or just ride it out with mom for several months? Do I start to look for a job elsewhere or just consider it a sign if I end up losing my job over all of this? And just how will I continue the nearly full-time job of recovery while returning to work in two weeks?

At least in San Antonio we had a sense of hope that all would be well and normal again. Being back home seems to strip a little of that hope each day. Every time I think I’m doing OK and have come to terms and am at peace about what happened, something pops up to remind me how upside life feels right now and that the life I knew was washed out with the tide.

Heading home

Just a quick entry for those keeping up.....I'll write a bit more later. Mom and I are heading home this morning. Home being her house for me. We'll be without AC, but we have power and will be back around friends and at home. I'm still on leave from work until Oct. 20, with the possibility it could get bumped a week either way. I'll be spending this week sorting through what little is left in my garage, and shopping for some new work clothes. Even on the island shorts and t-shirts (the extent of my current wardrobe) don't work in the office.

Our land lines are still uncertain and internet access is spotty if it even exists. So it might be a while before I can log on again. Best way to reach me will be my cell phone or mom's cell phone.

Take care and I'll post more when I'm back home.
heidi