Mounds of broken shells and rocks poke their sharp edges into my feet as I gingerly walk toward the spot where my husband and son are searching for shells. The beach near our house has been slowly eroding over the past few years, and now, this part of the beach is no more than a rocky strand curving around scrubby palm bushes and other wild brush.
In reality, I couldn’t care less if I was able to cover our windows or secure our potted plants, because just a few days before this hurricane came hurtling into our forecasts, another storm had begun brewing in our lives.
The airport provided a nice illusion for two or three hours, a shimmery gloss over the shattered pieces of myself that I carried on this trip.
I have witnessed this house's transformation, as well as my own. I feel like this home and I share a secret.
Emmanuel Even Now 