The Eye Of The Storm

                I still remember the day, my father looked at me with his big brown eyes and said “Tabitha, we are going to have to evacuate. I am sure you know that the storm has turned for the worst. I need you to pack enough clothes to last you for a couple weeks, but only the things that are important to you. “I glanced at my father fearfully, this was the first time I have ever had to leave my home. “Dad, will our home be here when we get back?” I asked him hopefully.  He replied “Baby doll, I honestly do not know.” I ran to my room with tears in my eyes and stared blankly at my suitcase. Where would I begin? I looked at the wooden dresser my softball coach had made me for my birthday; it was too big to fit in our car. I glanced at my first place trophies for softball, although they were special at the time, they were of no value now. The tears fell down my face. How could I pack my entire life into one suitcase? When would we come home? What would find when we did? Would my house be here? My mother walked in the room and hugged me as we both cried. She whispered “I know honey. It’s going to be okay. “I slowly composed myself and began to throw clothes in my suitcase, before snapping pictures of my room, just in case everything was destroyed. Early the next day the luggage was loaded in our vehicle as we prepared to leave as soon as the word was given.

                        My parents felt as though I should still go to classes so I sat silently in the classroom praying that the storm would turn, but knowing that it was growing closer with each passing second.  I glanced around to watch the phones of my classmates that were tracking the storm’s progress. Nick read off of his phone “The Weather Channel says that the eye of the storm is going to hit Quintana Beach, and if does the wave surge will flood our entire town. “ We glanced at each other with nervous eyes knowing we might never see each other again.

                 At lunchtime, we all filed outside and sat on the ground. On a normal day we would have been laughing and having fun, but instead we talked about all the things we would miss about our tiny town.  I realized I would miss my home where I had grown up.  During this lunch time conversation we were interrupted parents showing up early to announce that it was time to leave. We tearfully hugged each other, and said our goodbyes promising to find a way to contact each other, even though we knew this was going to be impossible.  

            I climbed into the car with one final wave, and before we drove away we said a prayer asking God for safety.  We had chosen a destination that was only four hours away, but because of  all the evacuation traffic it took us twenty miserable hours.  When we  reached the hotel we went to sleep praying that the hurricane would spare our town.  

           The next morning when I woke up I was delighted to find that the hurricane had shifted in the night. The chances were slim, but there was a possibility that the storm would not touch our town.   My eyes stayed glued to the TV for hours as I watched the hurricane hit the shore. I saw the film crew be hit  by the waves on Galveston Island (which is less than forty minutes from my home) as they ravaged the shore. I saw my favorite house’s concrete gates be ripped from the foundation. As the day progressed, I saw homes that were flooded and flipped upside down. With each image I prayed, but no word was heard from my town. My heart was breaking; I wanted to know what was happening to my house and to all my friends that had stayed behind.  My family wanted to know so badly if we would have a place to return to. Three days later after several sleepless nights word came that it was safe to begin to travel back home. We learned that our home had survived. and that the damage had  began twelve miles down the road.

            As my father drove he stopped several times so we could see the damage that had been done by the hurricane.  I cried as I saw the concrete slabs where houses once stood. I saw children’s toys scattered on the ground among the broken glass. I saw lines that marked how many people were survivors and how many were found dead in the houses. As I stood there overwhelmed by emotions, I could only think that this could have been us.  God had spared my home and most importantly my family.  My mother and  father wrapped their arms around me and my sister to comfort us as we cried. This is a day none of us will ever forget.