BEFORE this moment I was ok. But as he sloshed back from the
neighbors generator for the third time, the wind howling, and howling is how it
really sounded, the water up to his waist, and I looked out into the dark and the
water and realized how much and how high
and how it was continuing to rise……..THEN I got scared.
Storms have been energizing for me in my life, I relish
them, the thunder, lightening, wildness, unpredictability of all of it…..Love
storms. Once on the Big Island one raged for about 10 hours, I could see
lightening striking trees in the woods, the power out and the rain……oh all that
rain. No fear, just amazement.
This experience was different, a new perspective, no
beautiful sounding thunder or sparks in the sky to wow over. The lights went
out and candles were lit. We listened to the wind pick up but the tide seemed stable.
No real fear from inside just curiosity…
A few hours later the water rose to 4 feet outside, and
the sub pumps failed, and the basement began to fill with water seeping through
cracks along floor, through boarded up windows and below doors, when standing
in a foot of water inside and realizing what was outside……………….reality began to
set in. It was instantaneous, the realization that we couldn’t possibly walk
out into that mire of dark and water to safety. We were stranded.
Within a few minutes the water rose enough where I went up a
few stairs helping hold the flashlight while Jon attempted to plywood up the
back door. All this in a matter of moments, realizing we’re here for remainder
of storm, trying desperately to batten down the hatches as best he could in the
basement and then……a loud crash, the sound of broken glass and splintering wood
and water water everywhere…..flowing through the front wall breaking the newly
installed windows and frames and then the front door busting through, water
ripping the outside plywood off the windows and door…….the water rose to over 5
feet inside the basement. As this is happening we don’t see how items are
rising in the water starting to float and then a 6 foot stack of hardwood
flooring falls over missing Jon……and we are totally fucked. Sorry, but that word
is too perfect not to use here.
My fear for Jon, his health, our lives, passed like a dream
in these moments.
Dresser drawers and tools and wood, cleaning stuff, coolers
and anything that floats all things imaginable; a basement filled with as
sundry items floating running into each other as 3 foot surges plow through the
open holes facing the bay. The wood flooring banging back and forth and into
walls and stuff floating outside to who knows where……
This is when we headed upstairs, the actual living quarters,
to relative safety watching the level of water climb stairs, while junk and
broken pieces of someone’s life floated in and out with the tide. My cell is dead by now, his is still working
but no way to be rescued in all this. The water seems to stabilize on the fifth
step down and we lie down to sleep. The banging below from the basement jolts
us, with wood and furniture all night long a noisy soup, the sound of water louder
than any banging. The wind, the water, some rain….surrounded by natural
elements proving to us once again, water is the more powerful force to be
respected always.
It is morning, after sleeping fitfully, checking water
levels most the night. The wind has is calm , the tide still in surging downstairs.
I look out the window from where I sit in bed and alongside the house is a 30 foot sailboat. At first I think, Jon’s
boat has floated over, and then realize it is not our boat! We go outside on the
upper deck and review the carnage in the light of day. The water is so high
around neighborhood there is no asphalt to see. Beside the huge sailboat on its
side in our yard there is a pink kayak way in the back yard floating around
looking inviting and like a possible way out of here. The rest is a war zone.
An unimaginable wasteland of water filled with floating objects looking out of
place and the next thought…..way way too much cleanup work. The kayak is too
far to reach without wading to our chests, the water is cold, we are cold…..and
still shocked about the whole experience.
Going down the stairs and out the front door was
impossible with debris still floating jolting around the basement. Although the
water level had fallen slightly the ocean bay surge was still causing a wake of
continuous water in and out of the house.
Our last texts on Jon’s phone were with friends who said
they were coming to get us. ‘How’ was the problem. I could see a man on a kayak about 200 feet
away, too far to yell, but as he came closer to shore the tide took him back.
It was then that I knew I would not stay another night in that house no matter
what, even if I had to swim out.
Gazing out on the devastation from upstairs, the
quietness, the yacht club collapsed in to the bay; through all this watching
and contemplation; the ducks, the
seagulls, the trumpet swans and the shorebirds who lived in this part of the
shore, walked and straddled and made their day to day talking noises as if
nothing had changed. As if the biggest storm in a hundred years had not just
hit the northeast. That grounded me watching the shorebirds.
Then from around the bend we see two men with water up to
their chests, making their way towards us. One with a big smile on his face and
a camera in his hand, our friend and rescuer.
My eyes fill with tears; some
from the leftover drama of the night before and most for the gratitude that people
care, that we are cared for, that human smiles in the midst of carnage mean
more than any loss incurred.
They wade get the pink
kayak still floating in the back yard, we climb down the ladder from the second
floor, and they float us to safety out of the cold amidst all the devastation,
later to learn how much more others lost, how the coast suffered; that our
experience was worse that some but not as devastating as many others.
There is more to the story; the aftermath, the grief, the
cleanup, the loss of power for days and days, the homeless, and post traumatic
experiences of some….but that is another story. This is just one couple’s story
of surviving the night of Sandy.
