Prepacking

In my planner list of "to-do's" for this past weekend was a line that read "prepack." It's a normal thing for me to have on my list right before a trip and I am supposed to be leaving this week for a couple weeks of travel. "Prepack" reminds me to wash all of my clothes for the upcoming trip and set any aside that I want to be clean for packing and might otherwise wear in the interim. My husband thinks it's kind of silly.

This time around though "prepack" meant something else entirely. I packed a duffel and a backpack for a possible three week trip on Thursday night, as Hurricane Harvey formed in the Gulf. I knew that, if I chose to leave ahead of the storm, there was a good chance that I would not be coming back before my mid-week planned departure. In the end though, I was too worried about missing work before an already planned, prolonged absence (for the upcoming travel) and chose to stay put. After all, my boss and university were both insisting that Monday would be business as usual.

Close friends (and, frankly, amazingly generous people) gave me space in a garage for my car, even though it meant that their own would weather the storm outside. I chose to leave my bags packed though, in case we had to evacuate quickly. The first night, Friday night and Saturday morning, as Hurricane Harvey made landfall well south of us, was loud and stormy (and I was infinitely thankful that my car was sheltered) but otherwise it was pretty alright and I woke up feeling good about my decision to stay. Saturday night and Sunday morning took an abrupt left turn. I had kept my bags packed all along but, by the time it seemed like a good idea to be leaving, the roads were flooding and it had become not an option. (Well, it had become not a good or safe option.)

Between the tornado warnings (get to low ground!) and the flash flood warnings (get to high ground!), Saturday night was pretty sleepless and by 4 am everyone in the house was up and watching either the rapidly rising water outside or the news coverage of the event on the tv. Thankfully, we didn't flood and have had electricity throughout. So we're okay so far and, honestly, incredibly blessed to be doing far better than many other people I know in the area.

For me, at least, it's been an incredibly stressful few days. Our old house was sold just in time as it is now severely flooded. I feel both incredibly lucky and incredibly bad for the folks who bought it (not words I ever thought I'd say after the nightmare that was the process of selling the house to those particular buyers). I have friends all over the city who have experienced flooding. Some have been evacuated. Others have to wait it out on an upper floor. There are so many heart warming stories of people helping each other. I am so, so incredibly grateful to everyone who has reached out to check on me over the last few days. It has meant so much to me, especially in my current, super emotional, state of being. Below are a few pictures from my limited view of the past few days.

Shelves on Thursday night as the storm approached. Happily, I know how to bake bread. ;-)

A reminder to fill up on gas. Too bad none of us can get anywhere but, hey, at least we all have full tanks!

Friday afternoon as Harvey began to make landfall... over 200 miles away.

Just a few of the warnings from an eventful Saturday night.

The street after flood waters had begun to recede during a break in the rain on Sunday. Just 12(ish) hours earlier, water reached just below the back bumper of the truck in the picture.

North vs. South

It's hard to believe that a week ago today our home was still full of boxes, furniture, and people. By last Tuesday evening, it was all loaded onto a truck and gone and there was just me, a few bags of clothing, some wine, some ammo (because you can't ship it), and the few boxes of "stuff" that I decided was important enough to keep with me in Texas. That "stuff" is probably a good window into what I value most highly in my day to day life. Items included a tea strainer, loose leaf tea, my travel mug and water bottle, our wedding album, coloring books, book - books, my pillow, and a few stuffed animals. The exercise of whittling down the stuff I most wanted and needed was, mostly, sort of fun.

Saying goodbye to our home was significantly less fun. I was entirely unprepared for the emotional tumult of standing alone in an empty house. We were only there for a year and a half but those walls still hold more memories than I can count. There were days when I loved the house and days when I hated it but, regardless, it was ours. I took my time saying goodbye. I stood in the upstairs rooms that were our little kitten's in December when we first brought her home. (She's not so little anymore and on track to outgrow her older brother.) I stood in the entryway and remembered how impossibly huge the house felt when we first moved in. (Even empty, it didn't feel so huge anymore as I said goodbye.) I took pictures of everything. And then I took a deep breath and walked away.

In the middle of a topsy turvy week, a few people in particular were amazingly supportive. Close friends of ours in Houston helped with everything from move out house cleaning, to spackling holes left behind by pictures, to giving me a place to live. We are incredibly, incredibly blessed, which all brings me around to the story I initially wanted to blog about.

We had great neighbors here in Texas. The day we moved in, they came bearing lasagna and salad for us (and about enough of both to feed us for a week). They had even thought to bring paper plates and plastic utensils, guessing correctly that we had not even begun to unpack. Though we were never as close as I might have liked, we maintained a friendship and often exchanged baked goods or just visited. As we moved out, I was oddly relieved that our neighbors were willing to take food and cleaning supplies that the movers would not move and that I could not fit in my car. I hate wasting things and it was a big weight off my mind to have so much of our last stuff go to a good home. As one of our neighbors stood with me a week ago today, watching as the moving truck was loaded, we talked about what little I knew about the new owners. I noted that I was sure (and I do sincerely hope) that they would be nicer, better neighbors than they were buyers. During the sale process they have been abrupt, pushy, and rude (not the words I used to describe them when talking to my neighbor). Her response was, to me, comical. "Well you have to remember that these people are Northerners" she said (they're from Maryland, I'm not even sure that counts) "they have that, you know, Northern attitude that we don't have hear in the South, they're just not the same as us."

I laughed and agreed and silently wondered if I should be flattered or upset. I went with flattered. I'm from too many places by now to know if I'm Northern or Southern and I suspect that I'm more than a little of both. Regardless, the exchange left me laughing on more than one level and highly bemused and that's a pretty good note to part on.