I was supposed to be back on Tuesday

When I left my aparment with clothing for 4 days, one pair of contact lenses in my eyes, one razor in case I felt like shaving, a book in case I had time to relax, my current cross-stitch project, and my cats & accessories, I didn't think long-term. I didn't prepare my apartment for a hurricane. I didn't tape my windows, move my TV to my chair across the room, take down my precious picture that Max bought me for my birthday, or find & protect my important documents. I moved my dressed in front of my largest window, in an effort to protect max's grandmother's bed that I am using.

I was supposed to be back on Tuesday.

Funny thing is - i WAS back on Tuesday. Neil, Max & I drove down after hearing that the roads were clear & that the building was filling up with mold. Neil was bound & determined that I would get my stuff to b'ham, and armed with his big truck & a friend's gas card, we headed south bound.

Here is my recollection of my return trip.

We arrived in Biloxi after sitting in traffic on I-10 for about an hour. The traffic jam made us all nervous, since it ate up way too much gasoline & precious daylight, since we had just picked up a u-haul trailer & decided to haul EVERYTHING of mine back to b'ham, not just what would fit in the back of neil's truck.

Mobile looked sad - leaves off of trees, trees knocked over onto power lines, boats washed ashore.

But it had electricity, and there were people around.

Driving into Biloxi on i-110, my heart started to break. I saw the roads I traveled just a week ago, now devestated and ... just wrong. Something just felt wrong. All around the roads were debris that had washed in with the storm surge. Garbage hung from trees 6 feet up - 2 miles inland. Buildings were missing roofs, and the yards of the homes were filled with the items from their house that they were either throwing away or attempting to dry out in the hot mississippi sun. I cried briefly, but tried to control it. I cried for the loss and devestation, for the rebuilding that will now take years, and for the work ahead.

I almost missed my own exit because I was staring out at the bay. I could see the Hwy 90 bridge to Ocean Springs that collapsed like dominoes. I could see that Boomtown Casino - my landmark of "home" was dark and broken in half. I could see that the Beau Rivage still stood proud in the distance on the otherside of the peninsula - but it, too, was dark except for the name in lights at the top.

Turning onto Bayview Road, I could see the destruction immediately. the traffic light was gone, and trying to tell Neil which lane to be in was challening, for normal traffic patterns were distrupted. We drove past piles and piles of garbage, uprooted trees, and ....

and then.

and then the stink hit us. The stink of rotten shrimp, decaying chicken, and mud. Mud that is now in places where it never should have been - mud that sat in the hot sun for 3 days before it dried out - after taking our lives, our careers, and our homes, and tossing them around like the parts of a salad.

We had to navigate carefully to Moore, because while the roads were clear, the debris from my neighbor's homes piled onto the street. The neighborhood dog that usually sunned himself in the middle of Main Street was not there - instead, piles of sofas, carpets, furniture and clothing greeted us.

We saw that we could turn down Walker street, to my surprise, for I knew that my neighbor's house had been washed into the street. It was now pushed back onto their property, a pile of wood and shingles, coat hangers and picture frames. My neighbors walked around their still-standing garage - looking as lost as we all feel.

I turned my head and saw my home. The grounds were covered in tree limbs that usually rose to the skies. The road to my house now littered with 5 feet deep and 3 feet diameter potholes. I couldnt' get neil to stop the car fast enough. I had to get there. I had to FEEL this.

The tears hit my cheeks before I knew they were coming. Tears for the Moore Community House that now stood askew - tears for the playgrounds that once elicited such joyous sounds from the children in our care. Tears for the luck of nature that saved all of our buildings from being destoyed by either tree or storm surge. Tears for feeling guilty that I still had a home to go to.

After trying to absorb what I could - I had to go upstairs. I had to see for myself what I couldn't believe. I wanted to get my grandma's ring and put it back on my finger, never to take it off. I wanted to grab my file box of pictures that Katie, Lauren & Julia have drawn for me over the past 13 years, and frame them for all the world to see.

I walked to the front door, through the mud & debris. I saw the orange spray paint that rescuers marked on our front door. I saw our sign that Amanda made on Friday telling our parents that we were possibly going to be closed on Monday because of a hurricane threat. I saw the broken window that rescuers utilized to enter our building.

And silly me - I tried the lock.

Filled with salt water, it wouldn't open. Swollen with flood water, it wouldn't budge. I looked through the window, and saw destruction. I saw the work I had completed in advance of a workshop that has now since long been cancelled. I saw a LARGE gorilla that was donated to Moore last christmas that no one knew what to do with. I saw bulletin boards down on the floor, and books from the bookshelves washed half-way across the room.

The tears washed my face again as Max held my hand and Neil warned about getting cut on any broken glass. (he's an EMT)

I walked around to the steps leading upstairs, as Amanda had already told me that the door had been blown open in the storm. I took my shoes off when I got up to the top, lest I drag mud through Carol's office. I pulled my key out again, anticipating my locked door. I walked into the hallway, and saw my door laying inside of my apartment, kicked in by rescuers. I thanked God for their persistence, and prayed for those who had to be rescued.

I ran to the bathroom, noticed the foul odor coming from my backed up toilet, and found grandma's ring. Shakily, I put it on my finger, along with the silver ring my mom bought me last fall in New Orleans. I put the watch on that Max bought me 3 years ago, and I walked through the rest of my apartment.

I couldn't believe it. How could I have been so lucky? Why was my apartment spared all but a little water damage from the rain coming through the window that I left cracked? How did the 80 year old building stand that much water & pressure?

I saw my apartment virtually the same I had left it. My remotes still on my ottoman, my alarm clock still there, my pillows as I left them. My dirty clothes still in the hamper & my various blankets still thrown about. (I realized, quickly, that I have and USE a great number of blankets, throws & afghans for living in southern mississippi.)

I put down the boxes that I bought at Sam's club, and started packing. I found candles for us to use after the light was gone, and scissors and tape to use for the packing.

Neil came in and said that he took some pictures. Remembering my digital camera I had brought for such a purpose, I ran down stairs to capture the last few moments of sunlight. I had to see more. I had to remember. I had to know.

I walked to the back of my building, to see that the building that usually sat 5 fee behind mine now sat IN mine - at a weird angle. I saw the large oak trees crushing our playground equipment. I saw dolls strewn about, and little tike cars protected by a simple fence. Neil found a path to the trailer, and I followed - knowing no fear, only the greatest hurt and sadness I had felt in ages.

I walked in, past the orange spray paint, past the broken down door - and saw hell. Broken bookshelves, child-size tables & chairs everywhere, dolls, toys & books - tossed about like candy. I saw pictures that our children worked on - destroyed by the rain and laying there to dry. I couldn't stay for long - my heart was breaking even more.

I walked back upstairs, determined to pack as much as possible before the sun set or before the stink caused breathing problems. Max & Neil took my window unit air conditioner out, which let in cool air, but air that brough with it a foul odor - a toss up as to whether or not the cool air was worth it.

After 4 marathon hours of packing and sorting, deciding which things could be easier bought new than moved, and deciding what to pack next- we were done. Neil's truck full, the uhaul trailer full.

I was - with the last box & bag thrown into the truck - homeless.

I had one more thing to see. I couldn't leave without it. I had to see my office. . That which Lisa & I finally settled into - that which contained so many historical documents about my ministry at Moore - that computer which had succumed to electrical failure on Thursday, awaiting the Dell repairman on Monday. That computer which contained 2 computers worth of stuff, backed up only on discs located in my desk drawer.

I tried the door again - God! will I ever learn?

Of course, it didn't open, and I quickly moved to the window, now in shards after the rescuers.

I peeked through, and the dam of tears broke. Our resource table now on it's side, my work table in the middle of my office - on it's side, held up only by my desk chair.

I cried for what I, personally, lost. I cried for the work that is now halted. I cried for the rebuilding and for the cost.

I cried.

I realized after that I had, indeed, cut myself. A small slice on my wrist, incurred when I pressed my arm to the window trying to give myself a better view with the flashlight. Neil the EMT rushed to the rescue, and cleaned the cut with peroxide. Warning me that the spray antiseptic may hurt, I thought through the tears - nothing could hurt any worse than what I'm already feeling.

And, indeed, nothing can.

Not for a very, very long time.