Swept Away
I am utterly thankful for my parent's forsight in settling in northeast Mississippi after they married 32 years ago and discouraging me from following my bliss to the coastal town of Bay St. Louis.
Yes, not so long ago my dream was to leave my tiny college town and plant roots on the Gulf Coast. Having visited there last September I fell in love with the coast. It's beauty. It's serenity. The laid-back, devil-may-care attitude of the residents. The beautiful homes. The beach. The water. Heck, even the sky seems brighter, bigger and more serene down there. I had a plan niggled in the back of my mind. A deep dark dream of pulling out of town and planting myself in some beachside estate and opening a coffee shop bookstore or a B&B down there. I had this vision of walking everywhere I needed to go. Going antiquing. Late afternoon walks on the beach with the surf washing over my feet. Driving the bridge to Pass Christian to visit the little shopps and stores there. And shoot, I even dreamed of getting all gussied up and driving to one of the casinos in Gulport. Those huge, luxurious casinos.
A wall of water and a wickedly furious hurricane named Katrina literally washed all those dreams out to sea. All the beautiful old homes that my brother-in-law painstakingly drove me around to view are gone and with them all the lovely antique stores and giftshops that made the bay seem so quaint. The pier I stood on last September and gazed at the stars. Even the bridge to Pass Christian is mostly gone.
Seeing all the pictures they've managed to show on television makes me want to weep and whail and thrash about. All the history...all the beauty is at best a pile of rubble and at worst, completely and utterly gone. People's homes, their jobs and yes even their very lives were swept away in the fury. It's tragic. It's horrific. It's an utter nightmare.
I sat in the dark in my home Monday night as the gusts of wind howled outside my home thinking how horrified I would be to leave my home only to find it gone upon return. My parents had wanted me to come out to stay with them through the storm. They tried enticing me with the promise of food. They tried scaring me with thoughts of getting blown away and lost. They all but begged. But for once, I understood the irrationality of the people who refused to evacuate.
Not only did my independant streak want to prove that I could ride out the storm on my own, but the inexplicable thought kept running through my head that somehow as long as I was with my home I couldn't possibly lose it. If I left, it wouldn't be there when I came back. Yeah, dumb reasoning, I know. People died probably thinking the same irrational thought.
But as you can see, I did ride out the storm just fine. My home is still intact. My dream, however, is lost. Lost in the devastation that is the Mississippi Gulf Coast. If I had followed my bliss, I too, might be gone.
My thoughts, my prayers and my tears go out to all those in Alabama, Mississippi, and New Orleans who lost their homes, their jobs and their very lives and yes...their dreams. God be with you. My heart breaks for you.
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Yes, not so long ago my dream was to leave my tiny college town and plant roots on the Gulf Coast. Having visited there last September I fell in love with the coast. It's beauty. It's serenity. The laid-back, devil-may-care attitude of the residents. The beautiful homes. The beach. The water. Heck, even the sky seems brighter, bigger and more serene down there. I had a plan niggled in the back of my mind. A deep dark dream of pulling out of town and planting myself in some beachside estate and opening a coffee shop bookstore or a B&B down there. I had this vision of walking everywhere I needed to go. Going antiquing. Late afternoon walks on the beach with the surf washing over my feet. Driving the bridge to Pass Christian to visit the little shopps and stores there. And shoot, I even dreamed of getting all gussied up and driving to one of the casinos in Gulport. Those huge, luxurious casinos.
A wall of water and a wickedly furious hurricane named Katrina literally washed all those dreams out to sea. All the beautiful old homes that my brother-in-law painstakingly drove me around to view are gone and with them all the lovely antique stores and giftshops that made the bay seem so quaint. The pier I stood on last September and gazed at the stars. Even the bridge to Pass Christian is mostly gone.
Seeing all the pictures they've managed to show on television makes me want to weep and whail and thrash about. All the history...all the beauty is at best a pile of rubble and at worst, completely and utterly gone. People's homes, their jobs and yes even their very lives were swept away in the fury. It's tragic. It's horrific. It's an utter nightmare.
I sat in the dark in my home Monday night as the gusts of wind howled outside my home thinking how horrified I would be to leave my home only to find it gone upon return. My parents had wanted me to come out to stay with them through the storm. They tried enticing me with the promise of food. They tried scaring me with thoughts of getting blown away and lost. They all but begged. But for once, I understood the irrationality of the people who refused to evacuate.
Not only did my independant streak want to prove that I could ride out the storm on my own, but the inexplicable thought kept running through my head that somehow as long as I was with my home I couldn't possibly lose it. If I left, it wouldn't be there when I came back. Yeah, dumb reasoning, I know. People died probably thinking the same irrational thought.
But as you can see, I did ride out the storm just fine. My home is still intact. My dream, however, is lost. Lost in the devastation that is the Mississippi Gulf Coast. If I had followed my bliss, I too, might be gone.
My thoughts, my prayers and my tears go out to all those in Alabama, Mississippi, and New Orleans who lost their homes, their jobs and their very lives and yes...their dreams. God be with you. My heart breaks for you.
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