banana pancakes: Surviving Irma.

We evacuated Key West on September 5, 2017 due to the threat of Hurricane Irma. I spent the previous day on the boat with my parents at Boca Chica sandbar, loosely mentioning the threat of a hurricane. Nick was extremely worried and stayed informed the whole time. We decided the next morning to evacuate Key West. I spent the day packing everything that I wanted to save and putting important things high up on the shelves in case of flooding. We were ahead of the mandatory evacuation and made it to Vero Beach in the wee hours of the morning on September 6th. My dad stayed behind and my mom and brother evacuated that day. My brother stayed with us in Vero Beach for nearly three weeks while my mom (graciously) drove her friend to Ocala to help her evacuate.

Looking back, the words to describe this event get caught in my throat. It was so scary. I didn't know if we would all be okay. I didn't know if we would come back to a home. I didn't know (for sure) that I would get to see my dad again. We all managed to keep it together and stick together, praying, hugging, bracing for the uncertainty of what was to come. A monster churning through the ocean with our home in her reach. The days before the storm I eased anxiety with sips of Crown Royal with my brother and Nick. I will never forget hanging my head over a toilet and Nick telling me "it's about to hit."

I stayed in contact with my dad most of the time before the storm but lost contact after. He sent me up to date information and some things that made me laugh. He kept it together and it helped me keep it together. I felt so much sadness because he was here by himself. I wished I could be with him on his walk through old town when the whole town had been evacuated. I wondered if he visited the graves of his family members. I wondered if this is one of the reasons why he does not leave. He never has. It's like he guards the island or says to God "If your going to take it, your going to take me with it." That sounds like something my dad would say. lol. I saw a video the other day on youtube with Nick, a man talking about losing his wife and his father looking to him and saying three words. "Don't stop standing". It reminded me of the struggles my family has endured on this little island. I did not personally know my aunt or uncle who died here at a young age, but this is part of my families story, and mine. I don't think we can grow without our roots. We cannot know where we are going until we know where we have been.

So, Hurricane Irma hit us as a Category 4 hurricane on the night of September 10, 2017. It was the largest storm in recorded history, with the Upper Keys catching the brunt of it. Our home was spared as well as my parents' home and my father's properties. If we had caught what the Upper Keys had, we would have probably lost our home. It is still astounding to me that somewhere 30 minutes away suffered such devastation and we did not. I am reminded of the grotto and the protection of Mother Mary. My mom had gone days before the storm to light a candle. I am pretty sure we were all in some sort of meditative state as we tried to protect the island. My life is forever changed.

We returned home after almost three weeks. With our evacuation, I spent the most loving and heartfelt time with my brother. We made new friends with sweet people and ate a meal together with only the light of candles and flashlights. "real meal for five dollars" will forever be ingrained in me. Vero Beach lost power for about three days. We went to the beach. I was pummeled by a wave (actually two waves) in the Atlantic ocean when I decided to face my fear. I wanted to say " I am here. I am not afraid of you. I love you!". Then that big, turquoise blue wave scooped me up and spit me out and I got back up. Twice. And I was shaking for a good 30 minutes afterwards but I felt okay. I was okay. My home was okay. It was just a matter of time until we could return. We had to wait to be allowed back in. We had to wait for Key West to get power, running water and to fix the roads.

We came through Big Pine the night of September 21st. There was destruction everywhere. The only lights were cast by police cars on the side of the roads warding off looters. My brother said he felt like we had just gone down a long dark hallway. I was reminded of the meditation I had been doing during the weeks prior of being in a dark tunnel and walking towards my bright, white light. Then, the lights of Key West. The shell station. My parents home. Dropping Michael off, not having the words to properly express what we had just gone through. Only a "see ya later". Onto our home on Patterson, free beer and the feeling of being home. Our fish were still alive!

The days following have been a whirlwind of clearing, cleaning, working and rebuilding. I have had an off feeling since we returned and for quite a while really (as I have been expressing here), that I think is due to my identity basically being shaken to its core. I think a new self is emerging. A new dawn. A new day. I don't know where this road leads, but hopefully, with a little luck and a lot of love, it leads me home.