I've been in Houston for a week now, but somehow it feels as if it's been far longer. It hasn't even been two weeks since Hurricane Ike roared through southeast Texas. If time truly does fly when you're having fun, I suppose this is an example of the corresponding opposite effect. There is nothing fun about being here...unless you enjoy playing "chicken" at intersections with no working traffic lights, enjoy being stuck in truly epic traffic jams, or relish doing combat mano a mano with big-ass mosquitoes. Right now, fun seems almost like a foreign concept. Combine that with long hours and a pronounced lack of sleep, and you might begin to understand why I'm struggling emotionally. What makes this trip even worse, is that as far as the recovery operations go, this one's personal.
Having lived here for 3722 days, the damage and the devastation here has hit me in a way I hadn't really expected, though I really shouldn't be surprised. I may not always show a whole lot, but I really am a fairly emotional person, and I've found my personal detachment stretched almost to the breaking point in some cases. Working in Seabrook on Sunday was almost more than I could handle. These are people I saw in the post office, or at Kroger and Blockbuster. Now I'm winding my way through neighborhoods where their flood water-soaked lives are piled curbside waiting to be hauled away and disposed of. I may not like Texas, and I certainly have no desire to ever return here permanently, but that doesn't mean I hold any ill will toward the people here. No one deserves to be forced to endure what so many folks here are.
The progress that I'm seeing every day helps give me something positive to hang onto. F'rinstance, my ex-wife's power was back on late Tuesday afternoon. Here in Houston, there are reports that some traffic lights may not be working until November, but some intersections return to normal each day. I only have to deal with having to play "chicken" at intersections for another couple weeks. I can't even imagine have to do it for two more months. I suppose it just goes to show how this area still has to go in order to be anywhere close to being all the way back. If you look at Galveston, no one can even begin to guess when "normal" might return. Any reasonable person would have to think that "normal" might easily be months away. With no sewer or water service, little electricity, no working stop lights, and tons of debris yet to be removed, it's difficult to even know where to start. How DO you put a city on an island back together? Residents are being told to bring their own food and water, get a tetanus shot, AND bring plenty of rat bait. Ugh...I. HATE. RATS. Yeah, I'm REALLY looking forward to going to Galveston....
I'd like to say that I can relate to what people here are going through. Sure, I'm exhausted and frustrated, but even with that in mind, I still can fall back on the knowledge that in two weeks (hopefully) I'll be returning to an intact home in a place where things work, where traffic lights function, and where finding a place to eat or a grocery store that's open is in no way a challenge. No, I really have no idea, because while I may be living in the midst of this mess, but it's not my mess. I'll be doing the best I can to help out, and then I'm gone. I'll just be happy to leave the mosquitoes behind....
There are still a lot of people around town without power, but with each passing day that number shrinks as life slowly begins to return to what it was prior to September 12th. "Normal" is something that this area isn't going to see again for a good, long time. Life as it existed previously is nonexistent, and it may be months before that returns. I wish I had it within me to find the words to adequately describe and explain what it's like being in the midst of all this chaos. When I look around me, though, I have trouble putting into all into some sort of perspective that would allow me to understand it...and I used to live here.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go fight traffic. Let the fun begin, y'all....
