Last night before going to bed, DH and I shared one final thought - where we where we last year? August 28, 2005 at 10pm we had evacuated to Mobile, AL with my brother’s girlfriend. We secured our apartment, only with tape on the windows, unable to put boards up. We pushed everything away from the windows and put our mattresses up hoping they’d help incase debris struck the window. Before we left, we prayed over our apartment. We asked God to protect our home and our neighbors. We were not in an evacuation zone, only 7 miles from the beach, but were still told to evacuate. I knew the moment we left, that things would never be the same. Her parents live at the most, 20 miles from the water, and felt they were safe. We left one of our cars with her parents grandparents, and kept on our journey east. Our last stop was at my parent’s house, the home that held so many memories, only 1/2 mile from the Biloxi Bay. Dh and I looked at the large tree that sat right next to the house. We took all the pictures that we could and tried to get as much on counters as possible. My parents and Grandma, who had just come into town, loaded up, we prayed over their house, and we began the drive out of town. We couldn’t go the interstate, but instead [took] the back roads. We stopped in Mobile, my parents kept going to GA. We stayed with DH’s aunt and uncle, his cousin and his wife, who was several months pregnant, and were encouraging our best friends, who had 2 babies, to come instead of staying an hour north of the coast. They waited too late and had to stay. We didn’t have a lot of room, but we had a generator, and more importantly, we had family. We watched the TV until early morning when we lost power. I felt more emotions at one time then I had ever felt before - helpless and scared and worried and fear. I became a child, wanting to go home, and hide even though home wasn’t safe. I worried about my best friend, being in the middle of it all. Monday, all we could do was wait. We sat outside and watched the clouds swirling, listening to the wind breaking trees. It was impossible to pick up a radio station from the coast, only stations from Mobile. We heard the coast had been decimated, towns destroyed. We couldn’t call anyone - cell phones stopped working, text messages would be sent, not to be received for days, even weeks later. When the storm was over, clean up began. Tree branches were everywhere, yards, cars, and even in homes. Yet somehow, it didn’t seem real.
Tuesday morning was beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky, sun shinning, a perfect day to spend outside with family and friend. We were going to spend that day outside, with family and friends, but in stead of playing, we would be mourning for our homes, our communities, our way of life. Dh and I had decided no matter how bad it was, we were going home. We kept hearing on the news that we could not get back, the interstate had oil tankers on it, but we knew the back roads, and knew we’d make it home. Our little Focus, brand new, learned to go off road. We weren’t the only ones trying to get home, and dozens of cars worked together on the back roads, moving limbs, cutting trees, all working together for one common goal - getting home. The first town we saw gave us hope - minimal destruction. Little did we know, that hope would be soon lost. Finally, one of our local stations came on the air. Power and phone lines were down all over the state. Around 90% of our state had no power - that put us in shock - how was that possible? We drove through the town where our friends stayed. We had no idea where they where, and had to keep going. As we drove down Hwy 49 to the coast, the destruction was worse and worse. We took my brother’s GF home - her home now had a hole in their kitchen roof, but they were safe. We left her there and kept going. I kept praying that we would be ok, that our apt and DH’s work would still be there. Finally we saw it - DH’s building was still there!! We went inside and saw no major damage except in the shop area where the roof had peeled back. I knew our apartment just had to be safe. As we pulling onto our road, we saw trees, still in the ground, but laying on their sides, completely bent over. We walked into our apartment and cried with relief. It was still there, everything was still there. DH was so worried, so silently strong that physically ill. We decided to keep going south to 1/2 mile from the Gulf. There were so many people out, but so much destruction. We make it to my parents’ home - it was there too!! We saw their neighbors who had stayed. They told us in a 30 min time span almost 2 feet of water rose and left. Structurally, they had no damage - not one shingle was lost, the tree still stood. There were so many things to be thankful for, but there was so much destruction. Before we went into DH’s Aunt & Uncle’s house that night, I cried. I cried for the death and the destruction and the loss of my community. That was the only time I allowed myself to cry. I was one of the lucky ones - I still had a home.
Over the next week, we tried to find friends and co-workers. Dh’s company lost 2 stores - one to wind, one to water. We didn’t know if we’d be able to go back, so we started looking for jobs. I was determined that we would make it work, that we would stay and fight for our town, and that’s what we’ve done. Dh’s company decided to rebuild, and based all their hopes on his store, that had only been opened barely a year, and not yet making profits. They moved the staff from the other 2 stores into his, and me to work through nasty, wet, moldy files, to answer phones, and to do what ever else was needed. We had to move in with my ILs while the mold was cleaned out of our apartment. Our ceiling had leaked, and we didn’t see it the first day, but we were ok, our home was still there. Finally, after 2 1/2 weeks, we had it under control enough to move home, and my parents moved in with us. Reports and stories coming in from all over the coast were unbelievable. People had shot family members over ice. We were bringing gas back from Mobile after waiting in 3 hour gas lines. FEMA and the Red Cross were a long time in responding, but the love from other organizations was overwhelming. If it weren’t for them, our community wouldn’t have survived. My community didn’t depend on FEMA, or the RC, we couldn’t, we owe our thanks to the many churches who opened their doors the day after giving everything they could. Wal-mart and grocery stores opened the days following even without power. Most of the total devastation was on the beach, and several blocks inland, but the flooding went much farther than that.
The hardest part was knowing that our community, places where DH and I went on dates, had our first kiss, first said we loved each other, celebrated our wedding the day after, was gone and there was no trace of it left. So many memories were just washed away, never to be rebuilt again. We lost most of our historic structures, our shopping, our entertainment. In the news all we heard was NOLA, NOLA, NOLA, and not much MS Gulf Coast, and while it was frustrating, it didn’t stop us, we kept going.
So where are we now? We are coming back. We have had over 350,000 known people here helping to rebuild. That doesn’t count the numerous people who weren’t counted. Almost all the debris has been removed and people are building. There are still people in FEMA trailers, but are now moving into ‘Katrina cottages’ that are larger, and look like little beach homes. They, unlike the trailers, are stronger, sturdier, and able to withstand thunderstorms, and can stay as part of the owners property after their homes are rebuilt. Casinos are reopening - the Beau, the biggest, most beautiful, just reopened moments ago. Keesler Air Force Base - the heart of our community- started seeing patients at their hospital today. Condo’s are being build all over the place. We have new businesses, new shops, and restaurants, and new friends. Will we ever be back to normal - we are, this is our normal now. What we had was something we will forever cherish and remember. If you were come to the Coast today, and go to the beach, you’d see slabs and bare, empty trees. If you talk to people here there’s one common sentiment that you will here - We are strong, we are fighters, and we are coming back. To everyone who helped, who sent money, or prayers - Thanks Ya’ll!!
