Sheltered
By Laurie J. Kemp
In the final hours, two back-to-back advisories warned:
she's coming west and we were ready, but we evacuated
because we had somewhere else to go. Now we were home,
the day after with power and internet, no flooding or damage.
We were lucky, but so many others around us were not.
I couldn't understand how it was possible. I couldn't sleep
for three days, and I remembered what I learned about
secondary trauma. I did everything I could to open up my home,
providing hot showers, cold a/c, and a place for my friends
and family to sleep comfortably and do laundry. It wasn't enough.
I signed up with the Red Cross, volunteered at a local shelter
handing out snacks, serving meals, and keeping strangers company.
A Veteran told me how funny it was to see two volunteers taking
photos of MRE's, and he asked me if I knew what they were
and if I ever had one. I would be lucky if I could get my hands
on the beef stew, but the spaghetti and meatballs was pretty good.
I helped an elderly woman who didn't know how to operate
a computer to apply for FEMA assistance. I asked a World War II
Vet if I could get him anything, and he shook his head and said
he was amazed at the greed. He was dismayed by the young people
returning to the snack table multiple times for Oreos and Doritos
and Pringles and granola bars. They're just hungry, I thought.
And bored. I handed out lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches
and chips and bottles of room temperature Gatorade,
and they said God Bless You. Can you imagine?
They were blessing me. With nowhere to go, no family
or friends to take them in through the storm, this
was their last resort, and they were gracious and thankful.
I am blessed, and I am sheltered.
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