At some point last week, 2/3 of Texas realized that they didn’t know what day it was. The days and nights had melted into a blur of light and dark delusions, thanks to Hurricane Harvey.
The Storm of 500 Years
Sunday morning, just after closing my eyes following a midnight periscope live sale, the baby woke up from the continual flashes of lighting and ground shaking crashes of thunder. This baby sleeps through anything, except hurricane Harvey’s Golden Triangle approach. She did not sleep through that.
Rockport had been hit by the Category 4 storm just before 10pm, and the storm returned to the gulf to recharge before coming after Houston. Houston’s geography resembles a giant bowl, without drainage, which turned H-Town into a human bowl of soup. Projections at the time didn’t show Beaumont in the direct path, leaving us comfortable with our decision to stay. Not to mention it had already dropped to a tropical storm.
But as the raining got heavier, the puddles by the window got higher, and we realized if we didn’t leave then, we wouldn’t be able to drive. I packed my dresses and put them in a closet. Despite the fact that we both had work the next day, we filled a suitcase quickly with essentials like swimsuits and 10 pairs of socks (but no pajamas and no shirts for myself). I filled a few bowls with food and water for the cats, and filled a jug with water for the road.
The plan was simple…
First, we leave Beaumont, get a hotel in Louisiana or Mississippi and wait out the storm. We wouldn’t be risking losing power or water, or running out of food, nor would we be trapped in a house without power, water, or food. We planned to return on Wednesday.
Yes. I left my cats while we evacuated from Hurricane Harvey.
Looking back, I feel like the worst pet owner in existence. I would have never forgiven myself if something happened to them. But at the time, we hadn’t planned on leaving for long. We had left them home alone for a long weekend before. We also had recently adopted our third, Elijah, and still only have two carriers. There was no way we would had been able to travel with three cats, even without the lack of carrier, in one seat. Plus- we hadn’t planned to be gone so long. We didn’t know what to expect.
A Wrench (or two) in the Plans
Four hours into the trip, we stopped for lunch and our car began to spew smoke from under the hood. We found a hotel for the evening and went to the local Ford dealership in the morning. Heck, maybe we could turn around and go home.
Nope.
Hurricane Harvey had different plans. As we sat in the hotel watching the news, the storm took a turn for the worse. Beaumont was now directly in its path, and we were in Pineville, Louisiana with a car in the shop.
By the way… our car is not a junker. There was no reason for it to break down. In fact, we made the executive decision to take this car instead of my trusty Subaru, because it was only three months old with less than 3,000 miles. His car should have been the safer option.
Back to Louisiana– the Ford dealership told us that it was simply out of coolant, topped us off and sent us on our way.
But now we had to make the difficult decision of where to go. We could go home, and hope the brut of the storm was over. We could stay in Louisiana, but there was no way of knowing when we would return and the hotel wasn’t cheap. Or we could continue for 12 more hours and visit my parents in North Carolina.
We chose the latter.
Oh, and the car actually hadn’t been fixed. Every time we idled, such as in a parking lot, the temperature would sky rocket. We had big problems.
Safe Arrival in North Carolina
By the grace of god alone, we made it to Greenville, North Carolina. We sat on the couch and watched Facebook Live as our friends and neighbors updated the social media world if the storm. National news had already forgotten Rockport and Corpus Christi and was focusing on Houston. Beaumont was just a speck on the state map, and not worth their time.
Six days went by.
We evacuated for six days and watched as community crumbled into nothing. Two close friends lost their homes. One friend lost a cat. My husband’s job filled with water and has yet to be accessible to even asses the damage. An emergency shelter in Port Arthur for families rescued from their home suddenly flooded, and the evacuees had to be rescued once more.
At some point in the blue of those six days, CNN began to mention Beaumont and Port Arthur. They sent a news crew to the area and flashed some numbers in the screen. The broadcasters showed short clips of boat rescues from residents’ front door. But ultimately, the news did nothing but tap the tip of the devastation faced by our community. Before we knew it, the news was back to discussing Dreamers and North Korea. Trump said the area was doing great, and like sheep the country believed it. He told the country that Texans were strong, and damn it he was right.
For those who stayed, time stood still. For six days, time blurred. Rescues became recovery and now we will repair.
Eight days after leaving our home suddenly before the sun came up, we are returning to Beaumont. It is surreal, like we are going to a different world. Everything is different now.
We don’t know why we decided to leave.
We don’t know why Harvey spared our house.
We didn’t know what we are going to find when we get home.
But we are going home.
For southeast Texas, time stood still while the rest of the world kept moving. But we aren’t giving up just yet.