January 20, 2018
I consider myself an independent being. I thrive on solitude and space. Yet, after witnessing the immediate and lasting trauma that came with the flow of mud, water and debris, I have barely recognized myself. Forever changed by that morning, I rarely want to be alone. I am thankful to share a bed with my daughter. I am grateful one of my best friends is sleeping 8 feet away from us. I am not troubled by the sounds of the crying baby (who I have since learned is the sweet infant that I sat across from on the National Guard truck while being evacuated) through the night and in the early morning. These are all signs of life. And today, as I happened upon our community gathering to mourn the loss of a dear one, I reflected on how we hold these moments of vitality as our surest hope for the future.