Wilma was mad at Fred
When your friends and family explain the damage they saw, you listen. When they tell you that nothing is the same at home, you think you understand. But when you see everything for yourself, you cry.
My home is not the same. I don't just mean the structure of my house, I mean my home, Fort Lauderdale. Driving in West Palm Beach on I-95 and being able to see the condo's on the ocean, without any foliage blocking my sight scares me. Having to locate myself by structures alone, without the help of street signs or trees is difficult. But the one sight that hurt most of all was driving down my favorite street, A1A. The 1 1/2 foot layers of eroded sand, plastered to the buildings and pavement. What once was a tranquil street in which thousands drove to recover their sanity, is now littered with snapped palm trees and branches off of the hundreds of sea grape trees lining the coast.
Further north on Hillsboro Mile, the clusters of multimillion dollar homes that were once hidden by the massive oaks, palms, and sand barons are now vulnerable to the elements, such as peering eyes that never had the chance to see what reached beyond the bike trail.
Nobody was safe though this storm. Mother nature does not discriminate between gender race or social stature, she just destroys.
Having heard what my family and friends told me made me nervous. Not being able to see the coverage of my hometown on tv made me mad. But seeing the total destruction of homes, streets and livelihoods made me cry.
My home is not the same. I don't just mean the structure of my house, I mean my home, Fort Lauderdale. Driving in West Palm Beach on I-95 and being able to see the condo's on the ocean, without any foliage blocking my sight scares me. Having to locate myself by structures alone, without the help of street signs or trees is difficult. But the one sight that hurt most of all was driving down my favorite street, A1A. The 1 1/2 foot layers of eroded sand, plastered to the buildings and pavement. What once was a tranquil street in which thousands drove to recover their sanity, is now littered with snapped palm trees and branches off of the hundreds of sea grape trees lining the coast.
Further north on Hillsboro Mile, the clusters of multimillion dollar homes that were once hidden by the massive oaks, palms, and sand barons are now vulnerable to the elements, such as peering eyes that never had the chance to see what reached beyond the bike trail.
Nobody was safe though this storm. Mother nature does not discriminate between gender race or social stature, she just destroys.
Having heard what my family and friends told me made me nervous. Not being able to see the coverage of my hometown on tv made me mad. But seeing the total destruction of homes, streets and livelihoods made me cry.