Fleeing Rita

I had tears in my eyes. It was all over, and I was home again, observing storm-tossed pelicans riding the remaining winds, reading e-mails and answering phone calls from my many friends and family all over Texas and several states, concerned about my welfare. All of us were expressing joy that my beloved town and county on the Coastal Bend of Texas were spared the wrath of Hurricane Rita.

As I was preparing to evacuate I was overcome with decisions as to what to take. Of course it's just stuff, but it's my stuff, and I've scraped and scrabbled for the 32 years since the divorce to get it. And then there are the photos, the memories. I can't say it any better than an evacuating friend did: "gifts and mementos from friends and family now gone, each one treasured for the memories they bring, it's so sad to think you may never see them again."

It was a heartbreaking, devastating packing-up. At times I seemed totally disabled, unable to think clearly. I felt especially vulnerable about my mobile home; although it's anchored through 12 inches of concrete, a major hurricane will most likely leave only the frame, anchors and concrete. I wandered from room to room just looking at everything: collection of local artwork, curtains painstakingly chosen for just the right coastal look, comfort and things that make me smile in every corner. I couldn't take it all.

So, into the car went those irreplaceable things like photos (boxes and boxes--including three enlargements ready for entry in the county fair); treasured gifts from long-gone parents, sister, aunts and uncles; clothes, shoes, personal care and refilled prescriptions; the Macintosh computer with files of my writings and monthly newsletter "Livin' on the Bay"; much-used dictionary and thesaurus; a skeleton outlay of kitchen items; my companion cats and their supplies. Unable to fit anything else in the car, I decided, if necessary, I COULD start over with that much.

Pulling out of the driveway, with yowling cats beside me, heading for refuge with friends in Central Texas, I literally shook my fist in the air at Mother Nature, and cried aloud, "I made the last house payment in May! It's mine, all mine! Don't you dare take it away from me!"

Of course, I realize now that should that modest home, with the two fat 6-foot palm trees that I brought home three years previous in the front seat of my car, were to be blown away, the life that I've built for myself, the person that I am, the love I receive from my town and my county in the seven years I have "lived on the bay," would remain. I could create another haven of my own, whatever or wherever it might be.

Hard on the heels of Katrina, my neighbors on the Gulf Coast took Rita's threat seriously. Before evacuating, folks boarded up homes and businesses. Ranchers herded their cattle and horses to high ground. Shrimp boats were moved to safer waters in the Victoria Barge Canal.

Most did not regret the effort to prepare for and flee from a storm that ended up elsewhere, and vow to do it again. We must take to heart what we've learned, to be more prepared next time we're threatened. And from all forecasting accounts, there will be a next time. I'll be ready. I'll go.

Oh, the county fair photos? They received two first-place blue ribbons, and one second-place red.