Everything is Fine
Everything is fine. It won’t hit us like it did Louisiana. Max, it’ll only be raining like when Ike hit. Just a sprinkle of rain. No need to evacuate. No need to leave everything behind.
Breathe.
Breathe.
…. Yeah, everything is fine.
Those were the words I thought to myself as I watched the trees violently dance and the rain hit against the window. Pounding even, as if they were trying to break the glass itself. I could’ve sworn that I even heard it crack sometimes. Who would’ve known rain could be so powerful? Each droplet seemed so delicate when it started to only drizzle at first. They reminded me of crystal gems as they fell from the sky, even shattering when they hit the ground. Each drop felt like gentle kisses when I stuck my hand out from the door that one time. Maybe that was Mother Nature’s way of saying I’m sorry.
“Sophia!”
I turned to look at my mother, who wore a nervous expression as she sat on one of the couches. Specifically, the one facing directly in front of the TV. “Aléjate de la ventana por favor!” Her voice was quite as if she was trying to not disturb the raging storm outside, though the desperation in her voice was hard to miss. I nodded my head at her, doing my absolute best to keep my facial expression neutral, as if I were indifferent towards the situation. I learned from a young age how easy it was for my mother to be alarmed in certain situations. So, I taught myself to not get overwhelmed and panic so that I could at least try to keep her calm. Although this time was different, because the moment I turned to face the window one more time, I saw the streets flooded. Furthermore, it only seemed to be rising faster.
No…Everything is NOT fine.
I choked on my gasp and quickly walked to sit next to my mother on the couch, resulting in her wrapping her arm around me while her other hand rested on mine. For the first time ever, I actually began to show my concern. Even my dogs stayed under some furniture as some kind of shelter (the smallest under the table, and the medium-sized one under a chair). I remember hearing the rushed footsteps of my father coming down the stairs, and how nervous I got once I saw the serious look plastered on his face. “Any electrical equipment that you want to be saved, grab ‘em and move them upstairs. Vamos!” We scattered at that moment. I grabbed all my games and my PS4, while my parents grabbed the DVR and Blue Ray, not forgetting the speakers, too.
We rushed upstairs to place everything we grabbed in our rooms. My father then yelled out to get the message across the hallway and to me. “Empaque todas las cosas que necesita y llévatelos para abajo! ¡Prepárate para irte!” Believe it or not, at that moment I was more concerned about packing my sketchbooks and journals than I was my own clothes. The things I could not bring with me, I moved on top of the dresser and bed. Rushing down the stairs to pack things for the dogs, I looked out the window once more. The water had already risen to the back wheels of the car. I asked myself, “How will we get out? If we backed up the SUV like that the muffler could get damaged, then we would be stranded!”
Loud thumping broke me out of my thoughts and I turned to see my father hurriedly coming down the steps, his phone pinched between his ear and shoulder. “Papa! The water is too high! How are we going to get out?!” Honestly, I felt ashamed for panicking. Now my poor father had to stay calm for both of us. He rushed to stand next to me and saw how the water was now up to our front lawn. “Your Tio is coming to pick us up in his truck. Come pack up what we need for the dogs, and let’s go!” He then continued talking on the phone to, I assumed, my tio. It all was going by so quickly; the next thing I knew I heard honking outside.
My father opened the door, already sporting a raincoat, and grabbed luggage in each hand. Meeting him halfway to help was my Tio Miguel. The second my mother and I stepped out of the house it was as if we were about to be swept away into a whirlwind. No matter if we wore our raincoats, we still got wet. Each gem-like droplet turned sharp as we felt it cutting our skin. Yes, who would’ve known that rain could be so powerful? Who knew that behind almost every beauty there’s danger, too? Marco (a close primo of mine) went ahead and helped with our bags, while my tio came up to us and yelled over the rain for us to get in the truck with the rest of my family.
I even remember when I got to the back seat of that large white truck, I saw my Tia Anita withheld an earnest expression, which was far from her usual happy-go-lucky smiles. Then I saw my abuelita next to her holding her blanket-covered birdcage so tightly. I remember thinking, “Are we really taking that thing with us?” Now thinking back on it, I was ashamed of that, too. Though could you really blame me? For a bird that’s supposed to be a symbol of peace and love, it sure acted the opposite. I then saw my father running towards us holding both our dogs, so I prepared to reach out to grab hold of them. He first handed me our chihuahua, Sugar, but I noticed he was losing his grip on our Jack Russell. It was then that I felt my heart in my throat, choking me. Out of his panic, my dog jumped out of my father’s arm and into the deep water.
“RICO!”
I get it; I sound like a broken record, but I remember that moment so clearly. I’ll never forget it. Especially the sheer panic I felt when those horrible scenarios flashed by in my head within those few seconds.
Did he drown?
Did he run away to try and find a safer ground?
Is he going to have to spend the night shivering under the cold, harsh rain?
Scared and alone?
Oh God, I’m never going to see him again!
“I got him!” A relieved gasp slipped past my lips as I watched my father holding him with both arms this time. I reached out for him, feeling an ache in my heart at seeing Rico violently shivering. I held onto him so tightly, not caring if the poor thing was soaked, to see if I could ease the strong tremors rippling his body. I now realized how my abuelita felt. Holding onto my dog kept me grounded, and made me feel calmer. Made me feel safe. I wanted to cry. From what, I still haven’t figured that out. Finally, we all boarded the vehicle and took off. It was so packed; the back seat was filled with my abuelita, my tia, my mother, my two dogs, and me. While those in the front were my tio, my primo, and then my father. It should’ve been suffocating, and unpleasant, but it wasn’t. I felt a sense of security being pressed against my loved ones. We prayed to make it to our destination safely after seeing how the rain blinded us.
Is everything really going to be fine?
***
Days passed as we spent our nights at my Tia Claudia’s. We watched the devastation unfold in downtown Houston through the screen. We tried to make the most of the situation, thankful that we were well and alive. That we made it to somewhere warm and safe. We prayed for those unfortunate souls who lost everything to Harvey. I used to laugh at that name, you know? Now every time I hear it, it brings me back to those terrifying events. My younger cousins tried to play games with Marco and me to distract us from our worries. It worked in the end. For a little while, but it was enough for us. I never really got to thank them for that.
Many things happened in the following days. Once it was somewhat clear and safe, Tio Miguel went to accompany Marco and lead him back to university. We then decided to go check on our neighborhood, only to realize the moment we got there, the entrance was still completely flooded. We had to cut through part of the bayou and enter through the back of my Tia Anita’s and Tio Miguel’s home. It was not until then we noticed that their house wasn’t affected. If theirs was OK, then why wouldn’t ours be? My tia opened the front door, and we saw the watermark, an inch from the door.
Oh boy…
As we began walking in the direction of our home, we saw how there were patches of areas in the neighborhood that were still flooded. Thank God, for our rain boots. Even though they were kind of useless in the end, as the water had gotten deeper the further we traveled. During our difficult walk, I noticed these floating, wriggling, clumps. I squinted my eyes to see if I could figure out what it was. Although, I found my answer once I got close enough, and to say I was disgusted was an understatement. “OH MY GOD! THEY’RE ANTS!”
After avoiding the many clusters of ants, we finally made it to our house. Only to see water still near the entrance, and no end to the water marks. Once inside, we saw that the water had made it in. Dead bugs and some blades of grass are all over the tiles. Luckily though, only an inch of water had gotten in. Others had worse happen to them. Then again, I am not saying that it still wasn’t a sad situation for us. I recall walking to the wooden area of the dining table and seeing sections of the floor swelled to a great extent. Making it look as if we had wooden hills within our home. My mother couldn’t help but cry as my tia tried to make her look at the bright side. I saw my father recording the damage on his phone as he walked through the house.
I soon followed my dad to the backyard and saw some patches of water still there. Still, what really caught my attention and filled my heart with dread, was how yellow and dead the grass looked. We then heard an alarm blaring out in the distance and an announcement that said how we needed to evacuate once again. We rushed back in to share the news with everyone. Right when we walked out of the house, military Jeeps rolled into the cul-de-sac. They began telling those who were still there in their homes that they wouldn’t move until everyone has evacuated.
We reluctantly made our journey back to my tia’s, until I noticed someone familiar in the distance. I would have recognized that blonde hair anywhere. “Riley!” Said person snapped her head to my general direction. She looked at me, confused, until she realized who I was and waved while walking towards us, “Hey!” She and I were childhood friends, and even though we didn’t see each other that often, with her working and me preparing for the start of my senior year, we remained close.
“How are you? Did your house get affected?”
“Yeah, what about yours? Y’all OK?”
“Mmhm! We’re alright. The water didn’t even touch us, but damn, y’alls house got hit?”
I sighed, “Yeah.”
She frowned and gave me a sympathetic look, “Aw man, I’m so sorry. How much water got in?”
“Just about an inch.”
“Oh, OK. So it’s not that bad.”
“No it’s not, but it’s still kinda sad, ya know? After seeing everything all so dirty and damaged.
Man, even our Christmas lights are damaged cause there’s still water in the garage.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
The both of us continued to talk for a little bit, as the rest of my family continued walking (since my Tia and Riley’s house were a block away from each other). We shared stories of our adventures over the past couple of days. Both funny and tragic ones, though just her presence was enough to distract me from the situation. She was the one who even told me the reason for the clusters of “angry” ants, as she called them. Turns out, after the loss of their home, they began to make a boat out of their dead colony members to try and stay afloat. It’s strange, isn’t it? How we all as living beings had made sacrifices, just to have a chance to survive.
It was then time for me to say goodbye and catch up with my family. After we realized that the evacuation was a false alarm, we came to the decision that we would stay with my Tia Anita and Tio Miguel from now on. This gave us a chance to check on our house once in a while. So, with that, a few more days passed by, and we were finally able to return to our home. Little by little, we cleaned up the house as much as we could, although the more we cleaned, the more our spirits began draining away. We were losing all motivation. That was until Riley and her father (who I named Uncle Drew) came to our house and asked my father, “Alright, what’s the plan? How can I help?”
Together, along with my tios (who came soon after my father called them), we began clearing out the garage. Of course, my mother cried again, seeing old memories packed in boxes, ruined beyond repair. My aunt did console her, saying things such as, “You will make new memories, better memories. Do not be discouraged.” During our moving of wet, damaged, boxes out of the garage, I saw a woman handing out small packages to the people of our cul-de-sac. I never knew her personally, but I always saw her walking around the neighborhood. She finally came up to us and explained why she was there. I remember her light, Southern accent as she said with a heartfelt smile, “Here! I made lunch for those who were cleaning and helping out. And if y’all need anything, you let me know. I’ll be in that white SUV over there, handing out food and water.” She then handed us hot dogs wrapped in foil. I won’t lie; it was really hard not to tear up from her kindness. I gave her a watery smile in return and replied with a “Thank you so much, we really appreciate it.” Riley and I began handing everyone their hotdog, and as we ate, I looked at my surroundings, at our neighbors helping each other as much as they could. I then turned to see my tios, Uncle Drew, and my father sitting in front of the garage with beers in their hands, laughing and smiling, as they each shared their respective stories. I softly smiled.
Yes, everything is going to be fine.