A week has crawled by since we made it home after Hurricane Milton. Until this year, I considered myself storm-seasoned, living 35 years in Florida and most of it on the coast. I researched local history and published my first novel this year about the storm that took out Cortez, FL in 1921. I titled it “When Not If.” Now I know 2024 is the “when” … and the year of my first hurricane evacuation.
I wasn’t worried as Milton approached. Milton is a kind name, I thought, perhaps of a favorite uncle or an old school chum. Still, I did my chores: bank, gas, liquor store.
“You don’t want anything bigger than a twenty,” the teller said as she counted out my stack, five times thicker than usual. “When the power goes, this is what you’ll need.” She was the first to get my attention. Then I saw all the bare spots on the liquor store shelves. By the time I made my turn at the fuel pump and thanked Jesus for gas, I knew it was time to take Miltie seriously.
When I got home, my partner Richard had boarded the windows and secured the truck camper. My sister called him to say, “Get her out of there.” Anna Maria Island was bulldozed by Hurricane Helene about a week before. That storm only grazed our coast and left destruction unseen in my lifetime. Milton was coming right at us.
Attitude Makes a Difference
I’d been saying, “Have a good storm” all morning long. The comeback, “You, too,” was like sharing a wish. It lightened the mood. One friend asked, “How can you stay so positive about everything, even a disaster?” Truth is, I don’t know how I stay positive. But I know thoughts often come true, so I’ve trained myself not to manifest the negative ones.
We prepared the best we could, tried to get some rest and pulled out at 4:13 a.m. with two changes of clothes, random snacks and dog food. By daylight, traffic was still steady; and we stopped only to top the tank and relieve ourselves. I’d prepared myself for infrequent bathroom breaks, but it’s hard to explain to a puppy.
When we could travel no more, I started calling for campsites. There were none to be had in Florida, though Alabama had opened its state parks to campers as had the Atlanta Motor Speedway – options if we needed them. But now we needed rest, so we pulled into a state rest area west of Tallahassee.
Lucky Breaks Along the Road
I jogged to the restroom while Richie walked the pups. When I rejoined them, we had new friends and a place to camp for the night. Our new friends were sisters – both in their 60s, one the caregiver for the other who has Alzheimer’s Disease. They’d slept the night before in their car and spent the day at a picnic table under the rain shelter they invited us to share.
As we swapped food and stories, tents popped up and more campers claimed space. Caravans carrying every generation unloaded picnic dinners and babies to change. Cat cages came out for air, and dogs of every description created welcome distraction. Our own dogs Lassie and Bandit were on their best behavior and great comfort to the sisters and me.
The rest area became a well-secured, family-focused, pet-friendly Woodstock. Card games and catch, all types of music in varied languages, laughter and then quiet. I heard not one angry word all evening.
We slept surprisingly well but decided to travel on and left the sisters with our bug spray, baby wipes and trash bags. We’d prepared better than we knew. Plan B was to wait out Milton with storm-seasoned friends who’d waded through five feet of water in their home from Katrina.
Traveling west, we noticed more and more vintage cars. Sure enough, we were right in the thick of Cruising the Coast, one of the nation’s largest car events and a bucket list item for my sweetheart. Once the storm passed and boots on the ground assured us the house was standing, we enjoyed a few hours of classic cars, music and BBQ on the Mississippi coast before turning back home.
The Other Side
A common farewell before the storm was, “See you on the other side.” That’s where we were headed amid convoys of power workers and National Guard. We drove south until the solid red line on the dash screen stretched further than the gas tank could go. Against my Richie’s better judgement but trusting my gut, we off-roaded through flood waters and downed trees to the campsite I’d reserved early in the day.
We joined first responders, families who’d lost their homes, and lots of people with pets like us returning home to uncertainty. Unable to eat that evening or sleep well, we found gas early (thank you, Jesus) and made the last hundred miles home.
Sirens, chainsaws and heavy equipment have been the white noise of our community. Our neighborhood pooled money and manpower to haul away the fences that once separated our yards and the trees that cooled the ground for a hundred years.
Roads are tunnels of logs stacked high beside soggy couches and mattresses. About half the traffic lights work, and the chaos is disorienting. But our house is standing, and we are blessed.
An Unfamiliar Emotional Mix
In our county, thousands are newly homeless. Million-dollar beach homes are washed away. Whole trailer parks are condemned. We are just one county in one state. We look like zombies, experiencing storm fatigue which can last for weeks, months even. No undereye concealer can hide it. A good night’s sleep doesn’t cure it. Disaster ages us faster than everyday current events.
It feels impossible to relax or concentrate. Those of us who fared better than others feel “guiltitude,” an emotion coined on Facebook. I’ve never been so grateful to see my own driveway, but I admit feeling guilty about the title of my own book. We feel helpless. We want to help others, but we’re waiting on our own oxygen mask … and the roofer and the cable guy, the refrigerator repair tech and someone to fix the water line to the laundry.
When my mask is in place, I’ll make my plan to help clean up this mess. It’s going to take a lot of help and a long time. We plan to make the best of it.
Chin up.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
What’s the most recent disaster you experienced? What was it like? Have you been through a hurricane mess? What did you do first to get things back in order?
