Saltwater Tears

Written after I lost my home to hurricane Katrina.

Winds thrashing at speeds impossible to withstand, icy rain pounding so hard each drop felt like a knife breaking skin.   Her name was Katrina.  Possessing a passion for heartache and destruction, the hurricane set in to change the Coast forever.

 

It was a crisp day in autumn, the leaves transforming to cocoa browns and tiger lily oranges.  A chill swept through the air while city after city evacuated, leaving behind the homes they tried so hard to fill with warmth.  Lines of saddened hearts piled on overcrowded interstates, horns blared, not so much in anger, but in anxiety to leave before hell arrived.

 

Some people, too stubborn to leave their homes, would never be seen again, and survivors were never the same.

 

Homes that have fallen can always be rebuilt, household items can be replaced, but the terror of the hurricane will never leave.  The broken hearts may never heal, because not even the strongest glue can repair a nightmarish memory.

 

The storm rolled in, at first, with heavy waves crashing against grainy sand on the salted shore, however, the worst was yet to arrive.  Citizens of the Mississippi Coast sought refugre after a 30-foot wave of fury pounded with an iron fist into one of its most beloved and historic cities.  People were forced to escape to their attics after the floodwaters crashed into their homes, and once the dangerous depths reached those heights they had to smash through the roof of their home and sit atop it waiting for rescue helicopters.  Rain pounded the ground and windows like rocks cascading down a mountain.  The wind threw trees through living rooms as if the large trunks were nothing more than a baseball.  Katrina's fury claimed so much of the land.

 

For two days winds thrashed and rains trashed the the tremendous beachside properties.  Storms branched out and flooded many of the surrounding areas.  Soon enough the citites were obliterated and the broken hearts of shattered lives returned to pick up the pieces of what they left behind.

 

When the people returned the still and heavy air rested on weighted shoulders and inside tainted nostrils. Seage, wreckage, and dead bodies littered the grounds. The stench was unbearable and the sight was intolerable. Sorrowed souls fell to their knees and saltwater tears poured from their eyes while they looked upon the wreckage, unable to accept the damage to their lives.

 

Some, still looking for pieces of what used to exist, sorted through piles of rubble. For days hospitals and schools became places of shelter, the Red Cross became a common sight and a constant supply of packaged food and bottled water. Firefighters searched homes for bodies; a black "O" meant the family wasn't inside, alive or missing? Nobody could decide. A red "X" on the doors became common to see, a symbol of decaying friends and family.

 

Months later the homes were being reconstructed, but the memories still live on. The lives consumed and the homes destroyed were never forgotten. Some areas today are still trying to reconstruct what was lost, trying to repiece the jagged fragments of their shattered lives.

 

One moment can change a life forever; one word can last in memory for eternity. One storm can bring down decades of work; one storm tore down my world.

Reviews

[Odayin]

What a perspective when viewed from the inside of the disaster. It was so life changing for everyone, impacting some more harshly than others. To live through it, to see how it ticked, to have your memory littered with painstaking images, must be insanely life-changing. I'm sorry you had to go through that, but it will just add to the structuring base that will build you. The one that will craft who you are

[creativequill]

thank you, it was rough yes, but the fact that it happened spiraled me into a series of life events that without I don't think I would have wound up the person I am today, and I am pretty content with the way I turned out, thanks for taking time to read :)

[Chris]

Quite real... so many lost so much ... I think the loss of "roots" is hardest...

[creativequill]

It really is, you have to redo everything that you grew up with

[Chris]

I remember so many places that aren't places anymore...

[creativequill]

I can name several, sadly the area there hasn't recovered so well, you can still see the ghost of so many places

[Chris]

I guess its how we mark our passing...bare concrete patches

[creativequill]

It's sad and exactly why I can never make myself go back

[Lauren Bischoff]

Did this really happen? I'm sorry that this happened.

[creativequill]

Oh yes it very much happened I lived on the Mississippi gulf coast the year hurricane katrina hit