The past few weeks in Houston since Hurricane Harvey have been hard, to say the least.
Thankfully, none of us here at Houston Memes had flooding invade our homes. Although we were spared from the wrath of the water, our hearts are still broken for our beloved city.
As a non-native Houstonian, I received lots and lots of phone calls and messages from family members located elsewhere in the country. As you can imagine, almost all of the phone calls and texts went something like this:
Before the storm:
Are you leaving?
When are you leaving?
What do you mean you’re not leaving?
Are you sure you’re not leaving?
Are you still sure you shouldn’t leave?
During the storm:
Are you ok?
Are you still ok?
Ok, but really, are you still ok?
What are you eating?
What are you doing?
Can you swim?
Are you still ok?
After the storm:
Did you get flooded?
Do you know someone who got flooded?
Which areas of town flooded?
I am so thankful for all of the concern and well wishes that people from elsewhere in the country sent my way, both personally and the well wishes that others sent to our entire city.
As I travel around the city and see people getting back to work, repairing houses, helping neighbors, and being HoUSton Strong together, I am constantly reminded of the answer to the most asked question that I received during the storm: WHY AREN’T YOU LEAVING?
I am going to be honest. I got very lucky and for that I am thankful and acknowledge my good fortune and blessings every time someone asks me. However, I did not leave Houston because Houston is home. It’s as simple as that.
I did not want to be in the comfort of some other place. When the storm stopped, I wanted to be here, to see what Mother Nature had done to my home, my people, my city, my fellow Houstonians.
I did not want to go wait it out elsewhere. I wanted to be in the energy of this great city. I wanted to experience the pain and fear and heartbreak that I knew was coming. I wanted to be a part of it; I wanted to be with the big, sprawling metropolis that took me in 12 years ago. This crazy, giant place, that is so different from the much smaller town that I came from, is now home to me.
I love the insane drivers, the terrible traffic, the raggedy streets, the abundance of restaurants, the hipsters, and all that is grandiose and mediocre here; I love all that is Houston. And what kind of person would I be to run from the place that I love the most, the place that I call home.
I know it must seem crazy to others. At times, I thought I was crazy, too. At night, I would watch, alone and fearful, as the rain continued, covering the streets until they turned into dark rivers. During the day, I would watch as the water slowly sloshed about, trying in vain to find somewhere to go, somewhere to drain. And the next night, I would do it all again.
But, I wouldn’t change my decision; I wouldn’t leave; I would do it again. When I could, I went to the store and offered the warmest smiles to the workers. I listened patiently as strangers told me about what happened to themselves and their homes during the storm. Weeks later, as strangers in line at Starbucks now tell me about what they lost, I listen with an open heart and a kindness that I hope they can feel. The Houstonians are my people and I am honored to be amongst them both now and even when there is a little rain in the forecast.
