Blessings
I wrote a post earlier today and it was eaten by the computer monster. I have finally torn myself away from cradling a sleeping Addy and listening to NPR to revisit my thoughts on coming home.
The trip from South Carolina to New Orleans was much easier and shorter than leaving the city. Funny how not having to wait in line for an hour to gas up my car really cut down on the trip length. In addition, I am better at anticipating Addy's needs and was able to plan accordingly.
The trip was pretty uneventful until I got south of Montgomery, AL when I started to notice fallen trees and was reminded of just what I was going to encounter as I got closer to the Gulf. The worst damage visable from the interstate was easily the Mississippi Gulf Coast area. The Husband an I had just visited over the 4th of July weekend and it took all that I had not to exit from the interstate to see just how bad it was. Billboards of casinos that are no longer in existance stood eerily at the side of the highway as well as twisted metal skeletons that once held large pictures advertising country singers that were to be performing in the area. Traffic picked up once I neared the metropolitan area. With part of the interstate closed, people are limited in how they can enter the city. I gassed up once more before getting onto The Causeway, a 27 mile bridge over Lake Ponchartrain.
The same bridge that took us out of our city for over five weeks was bringing us back in. I could blame the hormones but I actually became choked up as I made out the city's skyline in the distance. It was as if I half expected it no no longer to exist. The reality of the extent of the damge hit once I got off the bridge. I began passing places that I visited regularly and they all looked slightly different, empty if not totally altered.
That night we picked up The Husband who was staying with a friend, dropped the cats off at the the house and went back across the lake to assess our situation before moving back into our home. Other than a useless, moldy refrigerator, a small patch of mold on the bathroom ceiling and a few roof leaks, we were in the clear and decided that we would be much more comfortable in our own bed ... as long as the rain held off.
Last night was the third night in our house. I've clicked my heels three times and shouted to the mountain tops how good it is to be in our tiny, rustic home.
There is a Red Cross station down the street that opens every day to give out cleaning supplies, ice, water and MREs. I've gone with Adelaide all but once and every time that I bring her, I seem to be a target for a nosy nurse who has nothing better to do than to question my parenting skills. The last time I went, we had the following exchange:
" Your'e not living with her HERE are you?"
"Yes."
"But what about your house?"
"We had some roof leaks but no flooding."
"You don't have any MOLD?"
"No," I lied.
MOLD. That night I feared that at some point, twenty years down the road, my daughter would develop a strange disease and it would be blamed on our decision to move back into our home too quickly. They would call it Katrina Cancer. My fears were asuaged today however at her eight week check up. The Doctor not only said that the mold would not be a problem but that we could go for walks and he was happy to see families moving back into Uptown. Take THAT Nurse "Doom and Gloom".
As for our neighborhood, it's slowly filling up. Restaurants are starting to open but it's still strange to see so many pockets deserted except for a few military personnel. Only four or five blocks from our house the flood levels were at three to four feet and yards are littered with couches and ripped out carpeting. We got no flooding. One common sight are streets lined with refrigerators which we found out today are not covered by our insurance. I'll take two, please.
It's hard to see so much of the city empty but we did find an open coffee shop this morning and the fact that our pediatrician's office up and running is a great comfort. Every single one of our close friends has high-tailed it the hell out of here (yes, that means YOU) so The Husband and I are bound to go stir crazy in a matter of days. Most of the time I sit and count my blessings. We are undeservedly fortunate.
The trip from South Carolina to New Orleans was much easier and shorter than leaving the city. Funny how not having to wait in line for an hour to gas up my car really cut down on the trip length. In addition, I am better at anticipating Addy's needs and was able to plan accordingly.
The trip was pretty uneventful until I got south of Montgomery, AL when I started to notice fallen trees and was reminded of just what I was going to encounter as I got closer to the Gulf. The worst damage visable from the interstate was easily the Mississippi Gulf Coast area. The Husband an I had just visited over the 4th of July weekend and it took all that I had not to exit from the interstate to see just how bad it was. Billboards of casinos that are no longer in existance stood eerily at the side of the highway as well as twisted metal skeletons that once held large pictures advertising country singers that were to be performing in the area. Traffic picked up once I neared the metropolitan area. With part of the interstate closed, people are limited in how they can enter the city. I gassed up once more before getting onto The Causeway, a 27 mile bridge over Lake Ponchartrain.
The same bridge that took us out of our city for over five weeks was bringing us back in. I could blame the hormones but I actually became choked up as I made out the city's skyline in the distance. It was as if I half expected it no no longer to exist. The reality of the extent of the damge hit once I got off the bridge. I began passing places that I visited regularly and they all looked slightly different, empty if not totally altered.
That night we picked up The Husband who was staying with a friend, dropped the cats off at the the house and went back across the lake to assess our situation before moving back into our home. Other than a useless, moldy refrigerator, a small patch of mold on the bathroom ceiling and a few roof leaks, we were in the clear and decided that we would be much more comfortable in our own bed ... as long as the rain held off.
Last night was the third night in our house. I've clicked my heels three times and shouted to the mountain tops how good it is to be in our tiny, rustic home.
There is a Red Cross station down the street that opens every day to give out cleaning supplies, ice, water and MREs. I've gone with Adelaide all but once and every time that I bring her, I seem to be a target for a nosy nurse who has nothing better to do than to question my parenting skills. The last time I went, we had the following exchange:
" Your'e not living with her HERE are you?"
"Yes."
"But what about your house?"
"We had some roof leaks but no flooding."
"You don't have any MOLD?"
"No," I lied.
MOLD. That night I feared that at some point, twenty years down the road, my daughter would develop a strange disease and it would be blamed on our decision to move back into our home too quickly. They would call it Katrina Cancer. My fears were asuaged today however at her eight week check up. The Doctor not only said that the mold would not be a problem but that we could go for walks and he was happy to see families moving back into Uptown. Take THAT Nurse "Doom and Gloom".
As for our neighborhood, it's slowly filling up. Restaurants are starting to open but it's still strange to see so many pockets deserted except for a few military personnel. Only four or five blocks from our house the flood levels were at three to four feet and yards are littered with couches and ripped out carpeting. We got no flooding. One common sight are streets lined with refrigerators which we found out today are not covered by our insurance. I'll take two, please.
It's hard to see so much of the city empty but we did find an open coffee shop this morning and the fact that our pediatrician's office up and running is a great comfort. Every single one of our close friends has high-tailed it the hell out of here (yes, that means YOU) so The Husband and I are bound to go stir crazy in a matter of days. Most of the time I sit and count my blessings. We are undeservedly fortunate.
3 Comments:
My goodness. I can't even begin to imagine what your family has gone through. It is nice to know that there is still hope and a silver lining for your family.
Glad you were able to sleep in your own bed and that the damage wasn't too bad. Addy looks like she has faired very well in all of this and you sound like you have too. Keep it up.
Happy to hear you are back home and that things are looking up. It is absolutely amazing that your house had virtually no damage. You guys are truly blessed. But then you already know that. Nothing is better than home...
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