METAMORPHOSIS: Building the Dome of a Home

10 TO HURRICANE HELL AND BACK
THE ULTIMATE ROLLERCOASTER
The emotional rollercoaster sits ready at the gate to once again raise us to new heights, only to
plunge us to deeper depths. The familiar butterflies fluttering in my stomach signal the
anticipation of the unknown. I do believe those butterflies have taken up permanent residence.
At least they have a permanent residence – unlike so many of my neighbors along the Gulf coast.
The déjà vu is not a mystery, nor an unexplainable phenomenon. Twelve years ago, Mark and I
moved to Pensacola Beach. Dreams of retiring on the beach and raising our children in its small
community created the eager anticipation I felt then. Nine storms later, the anticipation I feel is
far from eager, it is
dread. I am becoming
familiar with the
emotional cycles of
being a repeat
hurricane survivor.
Too familiar. The
stages for me go
something like this:
First stage: Storm
season approaches
and I hold my breath,
praying that the storm
god will exact his
vengeance elsewhere. Or even better yet, that he has no vengeance in him this summer. As
hurricane season approached last month, I could feel the anxiety level rising within myself. I think
all of us who have weathered the storm, so to speak, feel the stress as forecasters predict a
powerful, devastating storm season. And the waiting…. Even when there is no storm, I wait. I
worry while I wait to have something to worry about. Neurotic? Yes, but it seems to be a
common occurrence among my coastal neighbors. Even if the storm doesn't make a direct hit on
our homes, our bodies are pumped full of adrenaline each and every time a named storm is in the
Gulf of Mexico.
Sometimes I want to succumb to the depression I feel when I realize how intensely our lives have
been affected by hurricanes. Nine storms in twelve years, I think - some years they all seem to
run together.
Second stage: A storm is in the Gulf and its path is unknown. My quick glances at the
perpetually playing Weather Channel silently beg for a prediction cone that completely ignores
the Alabama/Florida coastline. The insensitive prediction cone ignores my pleading and includes
Pensacola Beach. The strength expected upon landfall is unknown, so we prepare for the worst.
Actually, we (coastline residents) always have to prepare for the worst. There are so many
unknowns; being prepared is not only for the Boy Scouts. If we prepared for a minimal storm and
it gained in strength and speed, the meager preparations would be pointless. If we prepare for an
intense storm and it exhausts itself before landfall, we gratefully count our blessings as we
remove our shutters and take the generators back to storage.
Third stage: With the intensity of the last two years' storms, a community panic sets in, creating
the need to prepare for the preparations. Ten years ago, I did not need to buy barrels and barrels
of gasoline or gallons and gallons of water as soon as a tropical depression was detected in the
Gulf. Now, food, water, and gasoline literally disappear before my eyes. Who knew David
Copperfield, master magician, was performing at the local Wal-Mart?
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