Metairie
We made the daunting journey back to our home uncertain of what we would find. Aaron Broussard, the president of Jefferson Parish, allowed people to come back into the parish on Tues, Wed and Thurs this week from 6am to 6pm. After thurs. at 6pm everyone was supposed to be gone with no reentry until further notice.
We left Wednesday night at 10pm, and drove through the night. Chris’s little brother Jacob and friend Mike came with us. We were armed just in case and I felt like I was with a pretty safe group. Once we were about three hours away we could see the effects of the storm. Trees down, lots of those gas station overhangs toppled.
Once we reached LaPlace we were routed off the expressway and onto surface streets. The 1-10 from that point on was reserved for releif efforts. We were routed along Airline highway to our house. Some buildings were up, some were twisted tangled masses. Telephone poles were bent askew and trees were down everywhere. Traffic moved slowly past armed soldiers posted along the street. Military trucks and personnel were everywhere. There were impoverished looking people now and again walking down the side of the road.
Our street had branches and trees down everywhere, but they were cleared out of the streets. Power lines laid everywhere and telephone poles were slanted over the street. Our house was fine. Standing there like nothing had happened in the middle of a pile of branches all around. Flooding had stopped short of our house, and the tree that fell over in the back yard fell away from the house. Chris’s truck had been looted, but had no damage other that 1100 dollars in missing equipment and a busted out back window.
We are truly fortunate, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling sorry for myself now and again. We got most of our stuff, but the life we knew and loved is gone. I don’t think I knew how truly happy I was. How much I loved my friends, and job, and the culture of New Orleans.
It was hard to see my home innundated with military. Chinook helicopters constantly flew overhead. The sound of sirens coming from the direction of New Orleans didn’t stop. It gave us the sense that we were in some protected enclave on the outskirts of hell.
The men mostly packed up the house while I had a small melt down. We had taken everything we could fit into a U-haul trailer and the back of two trucks and left by noon. We drove back to Florence and finally slept again after being awake for about 40 hours.
