Damn Dorian!

So less than one year later, here we go again.  A Hurricane. 


I get it.  We live on the coast, it goes with the territory.  Good and the bad.  I get it.

Just over a ago year, I was driving home from work.  Naked billboards and nobody else on the highway but me, Linemen and State Troopers.  The was no wind, no movement.  And it was so quiet.  Even when I went to the Food Lion for the last trip, nobody spoke.  Nobody.  Everyone was on a mission.  It was like "we knew"  We could feel it.  We could feel Florence knocking on our door.  It was odd. 

Nobody ever says "Florence".  They always just say, "the storm." 
It is like Florence is our "F" word. 



Today, I was thinking about the drive home just about year ago and how eerie it was and how horrible the aftermath.




I also reflected on the kindness that was shown everywhere afterward. 


I saw a social media post about Southerners and how we were all at the liquor store getting ready for Dorian.


I shook my head.  Seriously, as much as I would love a shot of Fireball, or seven, I think everyone would agree that is the last thing on our minds.  We were all on a mission.


I watched a friend post a video all about Hurricane Prep.  You get good at it, especially after you have lost everything.


Many folks are still displaced or living in campers in their driveways.  There are still tarps on roofs.  Some folks gave up and walked away from their home.  Others have to knock or burn down their homes and start over on the same land.  And they are no where near that process.


I needed to replace a few windows and the window company said "we might be able to get to you in 2020." 


I get it. 


Yesterday at the Food Lion, same feeling.  Nobody spoke, they crossed things off the lists in business like fashion.  No Hurricane Parties, serious business. 


I look at the pictures of the Bahamas and I think about the wet shoes, the heat and humidity, the wetness all around and just the feeling of hopelessness.


Last year, when the rain finally stopped and we were picking up the back yard, we found a baby turtle.  There was something about that baby turtle that warmed my heart. 


And as the days went by and we were able to leave our streets and see the devastation, magnitude wasn't even real.  The devastation grew larger and larger everyday.  And everyday, you heard or more and more random acts of kindness.


Last year, I went to visit my pregnant friend after the storm.  She and her husband lost everything.  I just felt the urge to go see her and take her something.  Trash bags and candy bars.


On the way home, I saw a gas station with gas.  I went for it.  Gas.  I sat patiently in line with a man in a big white truck in front of me.  The line creeped and creeped.  And suddenly, the man in the big white truck, jumps out of his truck and runs across the parking lot and embraces another man.  Not the type of embrace where they haven't seen one another in awhile...it was the "I love you" embrace.  I sat in my car and watched.  And they hugged and I could tell they were crying.  They wiped tears and they talked and laughed and hugged and hugged again. 


Soon, it was time for the man in the white truck to move forward and pump his gas.  He walked back to the truck and his friend walked along beside him.  They hugged again and the man pulled the truck forward to the tank.  And as he got out to pump his gas, he yells, "Wait, Wait, come back, take me pants, take my pants.  You don't have any, I have more pants". 


And at that, in front of pump 3 at the Speedway, he took his pants off and handed them to his friend.  And he stood there in his madras like boxers.


Now, I have never been so desperate that I would take those dirty, sweaty, ass smelling pants and I have never known someone who would accept them. 


But there is the story.  One man had only one pair of pants.  One.  Cause Florence took all of his pants.  And one man cared enough to take off his pants and give them to his friend. 


I will never forget that scene.  Ever.


Tonight, I drove home.  It wasn't as eerie as last year but eerie enough.  I looked at those familiar sites, boarded up businesses, lineman trucks, our boat wrapped, all waiting for Dorian. 

 

I also looked at the new Burger King sign in Swansboro.  Just went up.  Hate those kind of signs but darn, it was progress.

  

I was going home to make dinner, do laundry and run the dishwasher cause I had no idea what tomorrow would bring and I needed to be ready.

I thought about how last year, my friend was expecting and lost everything and now her baby was five months old. And I bet she doesn't feel like she "lost everything" but now "she has gained everything".

 

I thought about those folks in Bahamas.  A lot.

And outside there was the most beautiful sky.  Really lovely. 

And all I could think about was HOPE. The poor folks in the Bahamas don't feel it now, but they will again.

Here's Hoping Dorian comes and goes without anybody really noticing.