....but I didn't take in the reality that, after the water receded, there was the aftermath to deal with. I woke up the next morning feeling claustrophobic. Not because we were now a "family" of 10 in a 1700 sq ft home (6 of whom were under 8 years old). But because I felt trapped. To look out the window, at the sun shining, it looked like a normal Southern day. Kids were out playing, the roads were dry. But what the naked eye didn't show were the streets out on the main roads that were still flooded. You couldn't see the washed out parts of the road. You couldn't see the police blocking roads, not letting residents get by. You couldn't look out your window to see the inside of your neighbor's house, to see the devastation that took place 24 hours ago.
Our neighbors (along with Rob) got started on clearing out the flooded debris and gutting the house immediately. If I went over and saw it before the work started, I don't remember it. I did go in at some point during the day and saw sheetrock pulled halfway up the wall. Appliances sitting out in the driveway. Furniture all over and fans going, trying to keep the mold at bay.
That morning I also saw the devastation on a broader scope. You see I would've given just about anything for a Coke at that point. None of the neighbors had any (or so they said). But one of our neighbors graciously let us use his Hummer to get to the store. I volunteered to go because I needed some alone time, some time to process what had happened and our new norm. I got out of the subdivision without a problem and headed down the road to what looked like a ghost town. Stores were shut down. All stores. Even the ones that hadn't flooded. So, after driving a couple miles, I turned around and went back toward Walmart because I had heard it hadn't flooded.
That's when I came across the washed out roads. I was told it was dangerous to cross the road I needed to go across and, in hindsight, it was stupid of me to do it. But I wanted to see that some places had survived, that some stores were open. So I drove down the road with caution and, PTL, I made it safely to the main intersection. Only to be turned around by a police officer. I was near tears. All I wanted was some normalcy. I went back home, dejected.
Later that day Rob was able to get to Walmart in our neighbor's Hummer. Only 5 people were allowed in at a time so it took him forever but, hallelujah, he came home with Coke! I kind of got a superficial glimpse of how Noah must have felt when the bird came back with an olive branch. To know that the water had receded and that at least some of civilization existed. To know we could get groceries, to drive on the main roads.
Rob and I took advantage of our friends living with us to go look at Rob's truck that night. Surprisingly, it started but man, oh man, did it stink. I about gagged when we first opened the door of the cab. That flood water stink is something you don't easily forget! While there, we stopped by the church and our pastor was there surveying the damage. Our church, despite the sandbags, had taken on 3-4 feet of water. Dead fish were on the carpet. Pews were all askew. A brown water line graced the walls and furniture, showing just how much water had come in. And I guess, even though I was looking at it, the magnitude of this natural disaster still didn't set in. I had been living in a bubble and didn't want to accept the reality. It wasn't until the next day that I had no choice but for it to sink in....
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