Here Comes Ike

Hurrican Ike is here, and by "here" I mean on the Texas coast. It's the first big storm to hit Galveston in 25 years, and I have to admit I'm scared. The last one hurricane to slam Galveston (and Clear Lake, where I grew up) was Alicia back in 1983, and it has a strong impression on me. I guess what happened was my parents moved me from their bedroom to the dining room that night in the dark, and not much longer after, the roof where we were sleeping caved in. I'm not 100% what is actual memories and what is impressions from pictures, but the storm in '83 left a hole in my parents roof, water on the floor, and a huge sense of respect for Mother Nature.

But what's most shocking about this storm is the fact that my parents decided to hunker down and stay at home in Clear Lake. DESPITE the fact that they were planning on visiting Dallas this weekend anyways. DESPITE the fact that their zip code was ordered a mandatory evacuation. DESPITE the fact that they went through Alicia and know the devastation it causes.

Claire and I did a web chat with them earlier and ended up being cut off when their power went out. Luckily we were on cell phones, and those are still working, so I'm still able to keep up with their status. As of right now, Ike is still offshore, my parents are in the dark with flashlights and a radio, and there's a long night ahead.

So now I'm doing my own "hunker" tonight to live Ike from far away. Right now, I'm sitting in front of the TV flipping through all of the news channels to watch the latest updates and getting mad when someone dares to discuss the presidential election rather than the weather. I'm also texting my dad every hour to see how things are going but trying not to because I don't want him to know how scared I am.

The thing I'm dreading most is when the cell towers go down and there will be that period of silence where no communication will get through. Getting through until I hear from them again will be the hardest. What in the world were they thinking?!

Through this I'm also realizing that I have a new sense of purpose in my life. Call it a fear of death or an appreciation of life, but with Claire here now, I would never do anything so risky because she's my priority. Keeping her safe is the most important thing I can do. Maybe if I were younger and riskier, I too would have hunkered down and not have gone anywhere, but now I can't imagine putting my family in such a position; it's not worth it. There is nothing material that's worth the fear it might impose on my child.

It makes me think of another story I heard this morning about a father and his autistic son that were washed out to sea. They treaded water for 14 hours, through the night, until they were rescued. But what makes my heart ache is the account given by the father that, during the night, it was so dark, they couldn't see each other. His son is autistic, so they communicate through Disney phrases. He would call out "To infinity! ... " and his son would reply, "And beyond!" As they floated, they also started floating farther and farther apart until there were moments where he couldn't hear his son at all. I can't even imagine what was going through that father's mind as he tread water in the dark, wondering if his child was still alive. (shudder)

Whew! Okay, well back to TV scanning ... stay dry, family and friends, and I'll talk to you when communications are back up. I'm thinking of you and look forward to hearing that you're all safe and sound.

P.S. A number of you have asked how Claire's sleeping is going. She's actually going down about 9pm each night now, wah-wahing for about 5 minutes, then going to sleep. She stays down (with some grunting and whatever, but we don't go to her) until about 6:15am. Incredible, I know, but I still miss her and sneak it naps with her when I can. :) I'm not 100% sure that she's sleeping all that well - I swear she looks a little tired, but that could also be her cold - but I know it'll get better and better. Thank you for asking!