One Year Later

The other morning I woke up and realized it was time to close the windows while I sleep. My room was freezing cold and I was almost instantly transported to the last time my room was that cold, one year ago tomorrow.

This night, one year ago,  we sat huddled in our dark living room,  watching the trees blow over and light poles catch fire. We listened to wind on our windows that was so hard we held our breath,  just waiting for the glass to come blowing in. The Husband and I did our best to remain calm for our kids. I for one had to give an Oscar Winning performance in the role of Not Being Afraid.

In truth, I was scared out of my damn mind. I hate regular ol’ thunderstorms and this was neither regular nor old. It was big and scary and dark and cold. It was almost a blessing our power went out early so we couldn’t watch the news track the horrific storm. We only knew what we saw, which was really, really bad. I could go on here about our experience, the terror, the darkness, the sense of loss.

But I won’t.

Because here we are a year later and all is right with our world. My house is only cold when I forget to close the windows at night. We have lights in every room. Our basement is dry, the streets are not flooded and all our trees and poles are in their rightful place. The kids are even going to get to trick or treat.

We are lucky.

So many of my friends and shore neighbors are not. It is one year later and there are still many who are out of their homes, without even a move-in plan in sight. There are hundreds, maybe thousands up and down our coast who are struggling with insurance, builders, FEMA and more. They lost homes and businesses and now perhaps hope.

We are warm and cozy in our home one year later, with only the memory of Superstorm Sandy. But so many are still living their aftermath they need us to never forget.

I hope, while the world moves on, some of us stick around so that they soon can too.