Hurricane Irma – Part 3

I tried to fall asleep around 11pm. The wind was picking up and the rain was sloshing around outside. I envisioned the pretty little tree on the front yard that I’d grown from a sapling someone gave me. It was almost 11 feet tall now. I was so sad about the abuse that tree was getting.

I fell asleep at about 12am and woke up again around 1am. The once cool room was starting to get hot. “Should we plug in the generator for the refrigerator now?” I asked Bear. Bear was awake.
He stood up and looked out the window. “Maybe.”
Bear got back in bed and we sat there, listening. It’s a helpless feeling, hearing the winds whip through your neighborhood, wondering if one of the gusts will be big enough to do damage…

I learned something new about hurricanes during this one. The northeast side of a hurricane is the stronger, most devastating side. The worst wind, the worst rain, it all resides in that corner, which was the exact corner hitting us. Having sat through Category 2 and 3 storms before, they all came at us from the east. This storm swung north from the southern-most tip of Florida, carrying it northeast. Hence. We got the strongest side of the storm. No wonder Category 2s never seemed that bad to me in the past.

And then. It happened.
Bear and I tried to go back to sleep after making no concrete decision on the generator. The winds began to die down and the next sound we heard was like nails on a chalkboard.

Those Neighbors
You remember Those Neighbors? Well, not only do they have an ominous 55ft oak tree waiting to fall over in a hurricane, they also have a completely abandoned back yard and pool. If you peak over the fence, the pool is black. The once beautifully manicured palms are now covered in vines and moss and weeds. And in that pool, in that black, shadowy pool, live about 500 frogs.

As Bear and I lay in bed around 2:30am, contemplating an attempt at more sleep, we realized that the frogs once taking up residence in the black pit next door had been swept up and out of the pool onto the side of OUR HOUSE. And as the winds died down, we stared into the darkness of our room, half chuckling, half crying, listening to the frogs plastered to our windows…

Starting a generator isn’t all that hard. Starting a generator in a hurricane in the dark is a challenge. As soon as Bear fired it up, though, we realized we would have to run the extension cord through the living room sliding glass door, which meant the entire house would soon smell like a car engine. That teeny, tiny crack in the sliding glass door we rang the extension cord through was enough to fill the house with fumes within a few minutes. My ingenious husband duct-taped the opening of the sliding glass door to minimize the carbon dioxide so we could all live to see another day. The refrigerator was on and running. It was 3:45am and we opened a few roof-covered windows to air out the smell.

We sat listening to the rain, the quick whisps of howling, angry wind. In the pitch black of a hurricane, there’s not much else to do but sit and listen. Occasionally we would stand up together and walk around the house with a flashlight to check on my mom and the dogs. It’s a very strange feeling.

I finally decided I would try to sleep again around 4:30am. Bear laid next to me as I finally drifted off to the sweet sounds of 80mph gusts when a boom that sounded like God tripping on a lego shook the entire house.
I startled awake.
Bear leapt from the bed, which is a story unto itself. My bones were shaking. He plastered his face against the almost opaque window.
“It’s down,” he said with an authoritative voice.
“THE TREE?” I screamed as I raced to meet him at the window.
“Hoooolyyy shit. It came feet from our other neighbors’ house!”
Through the power lines, across the street, and onto our neighbors’ front yard landed the old oak; the oak that Those Neighbors have been asked to remove for 2 years. And just like that…we were trapped. Electrical lines down in our front yard, a giant oak tree blocking the driveway…no matter how the storm played out, we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

The sun started coming up about an hour later, and when I peered out the other window at the still-raging storm, I saw it.
My sweet little tree I grew from a baby sap, snapped at the base, flipping around the front yard.
I was more upset about that little tree than the big one…

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