Welcome Home.

We evacuated for Ike, the latest hurricane to come speeding and spiraling across the Gulf. We took our dog and our three cats and stayed with our friends K and B, who live in the older part of downtown Houston (original high ground, not built on a landfill). They have a little "casita" out in their backyard-- they took a three-car garage and turned it into a guest house. It has a little living room, kitchenette, bedroom and bathroom. K's grandchildren love to stay there because it's like a private doll-house, and it was truly our port during the storm.

The pets seemed to be okay, just a little stressed-out from the drive downtown. Once again, we took both cars, for the simple reason that we thought there would be very little left here after Ike marched through. I had AngelBoy and Mickey Kitty in my car, my husband had Gracie and ShadowBaby in his. We each took personal items, plus food and water for the "kids." When we got to K's guest house, the cats promptly ran underneath the bed to hide. Not a good sign for my cats, who are always content to sleep out in the open, flat-out on their backs with their paws pointing to the ceiling. Content cats will only hide in fear, and I guess by the time we got downtown they really didn't know what was happening.

We left last Thursday, which seems like a life-time ago. We had the news on constantly, and we kept hearing that Ike was not only gaining strength but heading straight towards Galveston. Not a good thing to hear. On Friday morning, we drove back to our house to rescue irreplaceable items. Old family pictures, wedding and photo albums, one-of-a-kind mementos. We had until noon-time that Friday morning... after that, everyone here was under mandatory evacuation and we wanted to be able to drive back downtown without getting stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

It was emotionally hard to drive back here that morning. Heartbreaking to put things into boxes.... our wedding album and video, my sister's wedding photos, my grandparents' 50th anniversary picture, my friend F's son's wedding day picture, my husband's mother's music box, my baby pictures, my husband's album of old photos.... we kept looking around for small things that we could take, that could never be replaced. And to look at all we had to leave, that was harder still. My grandmother's rattan furniture, my husband's mom dining room set--- how could this all possibly be under water in less than twenty-four hours?

We left and headed back downtown, and I absolutely refused to look back at this house after we locked the door. I didn't want to see what it looked like in the rear-view mirror. When we got back to K's guest-house, Gracie was right by the door, with her nose practically glued to the glass, waiting for us to come back to her. The cats were still under the bed.

In the middle of the night on Friday, which was really Saturday morning, Ike hit Galveston. By now, we all know that most of Galveston was swallowed up by Ike's wind and waves and let's not forget the storm surge. Clear Lake was another casualty... the water was up at least eight feet, drowning parts of Kemah, Seabrook, Nassau Bay, Bacliff-- all the little towns so close to our home. If they were under water, what would that mean for our own subdivision?

I was awake for the entire night, watching the news. The power was still on there in the downtown area, and didn't go out till nearly five o'clock in the morning. I heard about Tiki Island, Crystal Beach, the Bolivar Peninsula, and Galveston, poor Galveston. Glass windows were splintering and raining down on the downtown Houston streets; one side of the Nassau Bay Hilton fell into Clear Lake and the water was rising up over NASA Road One and heading for the Johnson Space Center. I wondered about the bayou that runs through the center of our subdivision. If the water in Clear Lake was flooding NASA Road One, would that mean our bayou would flood? And wouldn't that mean all the houses here would be flooded?

During the worst of the storm, I put the cats in their crates and I sat down on the floor with them. K's guest house has floor-to-ceiling glass doors and I figured if those blew out, I wanted the cats safe in their crates so they couldn't get hurt by the glass. I didn't even think to put a blanket or something over me in case the glass went flying. I was just worried about the cats. Gracie was in the bedroom, sound asleep for the better part of that night, with my husband. The air conditioner was on in that room, and it was a loud unit, and super-cold, which is why I was in the living room. Plus, with everything going on, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. And the cats... I didn't want them underneath the bed and scared out of their whiskers.

I was fine until the power went out. The storm sounded horrible, with trees snapping outside, windows rattling and shaking, the wind just howling, actually howling as if we were all in the middle of a horror movie. But when the power went out, of course the television went out, and with it went my link to what was happening in Houston, in Galveston, in Clear Lake. The cats were eerily quiet, quite content in their crates, wide awake but not making a sound.

When Saturday morning brought the first light of day, we could all see the damage. Tree branches all over the place, little trees bent over, large trees uprooted. All of our cars were okay, just covered with leaves and pine needles. My little car was luckiest of all... it was parked underneath a carport across the street at one of K's neighbors. Except for leaves covering the back end of it, the rest of the car was barely wet.

We all didn't know whether to laugh or cry. We started sweeping and raking instead. Just about all of K's neighbors were there through the storm and everyone came out and started cleaning up after the rains had quit. What we didn't finish on Saturday got cleaned up on Sunday. By Sunday night, K's neighborhood had the power restored.

We drove back here on Sunday afternoon. Two cars, same as before, just in the opposite direction. We had heard that parts of Clear Lake were under four to six feet of water, but our subdivision never flooded. The storm surge didn't get up high enough for the bayou to run out of its banks and down our streets. That pretty, winding bayou, surrounded by wildflowers and home to turtles and catfish, egrets and herons.... I never thought it would be a flood-gate for our homes.

Trees were uprooted on every street here. Branches were all over everyone's lawns. Fences were smashed flat, lawn furniture was scattered. Everyone's perfectly manicured lawns were now a perfect mess. But the roofs of the houses were intact. Chimneys were still standing. Cars weren't floating, homes weren't flooded. There were signs saying "Free coffee" at the little Stop-n-Go market in the middle of the subdivision. People were out sweeping and raking, cleaning up, moving all the branches from their lawns to the curbs.

When we got to our street, I could have cried. All of the Live Oaks that line each side of our street were still standing. The canopy from one side to the other was still intact, still magical, still beautiful, just missing some large branches here and there. Every home on our street looked okay. Not one was missing a roof, not one even seemed to have anything worse than rearranged landscaping.

The inside of our house looked as if we had just left it. The Halloween decorations were still right where I had put them. The power wasn't on, but the power of Ike hadn't done anything more than blow off one of our roof vents.

The electricity on our street has just come back this morning. Within the first two hours of having the power turned on, I had washed my car and tucked it safely back into the garage, I had vacuumed all the carpeting, and I had done two loads of laundry. Gracie is doing just fine, walking in the park with my husband every morning, and the cats are back to sleeping in the house, on their backs with their paws pointing to the ceiling. Everything is all right in their purring little world.

The Houston Chronicle began deliveries three days ago, and we've been getting mail again for the last two days. Every day's newspaper brings pictures of the devastation in Galveston, and it will be a good long while until that island is back to its happy, beachy, carefree self.

Our favorite photographs are back in their places... all my aunts and uncles with my grandparents on their 50th anniversary, my husband's parents' wedding picture, me adjusting my sister's veil on her wedding day, the little photo of my husband and his grandfather, a picture of J and M after their marriage ceremony in Queens. Our home is all back together, with the wicker furniture out on the screen-porch instead of being stacked up in our living room. Not even the porch screens were damaged by Ike, and I'm sure the cats were happy to have their porch back.

This was the second time we have had to evacuate, Rita being the first. We never forgot Rita, even though that storm barely ruffled the palms out here. Ike was relentless, totally without mercy for Galveston. Clear Lake was fairly lucky this time, except for the towns bordering Galveston Bay and Clear Lake itself. We live far enough away from the storm surge. But had the surge been worse, and had Clear Lake risen higher, I might not be typing at this moment. We all might still be in downtown Houston, trying to get the cats out from under the bed in the little guest house in K's backyard.