Irma

Here’s what I did for two weeks during Hurricane Irma when school was cancelled: By moving all the furniture upstairs in my townhouse in Fort Myers and covering everything in plastic; by packing my belongings and driving north to my parents’ house in Punta Gorda two days before school was even cancelled because mom said so; by unloading my car and it looking like I had moved back; by seeing my parents and enjoying a home-cooked meal for the first time in a while; by seeing my dog, Sophie, and talking her for a walk on the street I’ve called home since I was five; by waking up at 7 a.m. and driving to the giant pile of sand; by shoveling it into 50, 50-pound bags and carrying them to my dad’s car in 95-degree weather; by seeing the firemen helping other people with their bags and feeling better about humanity for a minute; by placing each one of those 50-pound bags along the doors of my parents’ business, which floods even in a thunderstorm; by eating what tasted like the greatest Italian sandwich ever for lunch that day then going home and taking what was DEFINITELY the most refreshing shower ever; by waking up for days after that with a sore back and spending the following days mostly immobile as the hurricane approaches; by finally regaining my strength and channeling it into helping my parents with seemingly unnecessary tasks like Googling how cut your way out of an attic and get onto the roof of your house if your living room is underwater; by worrying endlessly about things that didn’t matter and being unable to concentrate on homework; by getting drunk on Lime-a-ritas when the hurricane finally hit and being a little disappointed that we didn’t flood even a little bit; by feeling grateful that I still had power, my family and my house and that everything was going to be OK.