Those were the words that kicked off one of the most bizarre and surreal nights of my life.

I had work that day at Sis Boom during which the impending storm was mostly the topic of conversation. My boss’s husband was preparing for the chaos that was about to ensue by picking up supplies, having jugs of water on hand, sealing windows, and performing other preparations that seemed way over the top. Jennifer and I laughed at the drama and continued making pretty things. Her husband was gathering candles and batteries, while our topic of conversation was whether or not our pillow design would benefit with an added pom-pom. By the way, this is an old story, but one I definitely would have told you about had I been a responsible friend and blogger (ew I dislike that word). So take it, a year later, and enjoy it. or don’t. but you will. so there. ok. let’s keep going…

The work day came to an end and I made my way home. Suddenly it dawned upon me that maybe we weren’t as prepared as we should be. We hadn’t done a single thing! We chatted with our neighbors, (You all know Debra!) and we collectively decided that we’d stick it out together and charge the storm. Nothing was going to happen. The decision was made that they’d come over for a nice dinner and we would be safe and sound from all that was going on outside. We were going to be fine.

They came on over and we started making scallops, opening a few bottles of wine and tossing a fresh salad… suddenly, three loud bangs on our door and the dogs went wild. Who was it? It had just started to rain and so we couldn’t make out the figure until we got to the door and pushed it open. A fireman in full gear motioned beyond the gate that contains our parking lot and told us to grab our pillows and get on the shuttle. It would take us to the Bridgeport shelter.

Now, I love Bridgeport, but, SAY WHAT?! What?! Shutle? Shelter? Pillow?! What was he talking about?! We laughed and told him he must be mistaken. We explained that we would be fine and that we kind of accepted the fact that we might get water in the basement, which was going to be ok. We even took a silly movie earlier in the night… the two dogs and me in a kayak in our basement. We were faux paddling and telling the storm to “come and get us”. Maybe we should have thought twice.

At this point the rain was picking up and so was his voice. He looked at us and said, forget the basement, your entire first floor will be flooded in a few hours. There is going to be a tidal surge. (in my head: Tidal surge. Tidal surge? Tidal surge!!) Get on this bus or don’t say we didn’t warn you. You’ll probably lose power to, so I wouldn’t rely on the alarm system being of any assistance while you’re gone. Take any special documents with you.

There was no way we were going to the shelter, but we started to feel the need to not be here. My parents live about an hour away in a lovely, cozy home that also happens to have a massive generator. Their loving, comforting arms, home on top of a hill, and back up power suddenly presented itself as the ideal location during this suddenly scary storm.

PAUSE

Option 1: Remain calm. Think slowly and carefully. Do not get emotionally involved in this decision. Just do what you’ve got to do to be safe and the rest will follow.

Option 2: go ape shit.

RESUME

I chose option 2.

Instead of composing myself and weighing the options, I immediately went into panic mode and started gathering my favorite things in a box. Passports, Cash, jewelry.. shoes.. SHOES?! CLOTHES?!? OMG what? Maddie really?! My mind was racing so fast that I couldn’t make any sense of what was happening. I had just been told that I would lose the contents on my first floor to a TIDAL SURGE. Not that I knew what a tidal surge is, but shit that sounds sca-ree!!! …aka I was in a moment of having to say goodbye to all of my furniture, artwork, MY PIANO since age 3…. my things!! My precious things!!! Then I had the visual of looters coming through and taking whatever was available upstairs. I ran up and started locking the doors from the inside, grabbed our cash box, frantically searched for old photographs that I couldn’t imagine losing, and then realized I had a heaping mound of random shit in my arms. A pillow, a pair of shoes, my Dad’s Poppy’s cigar box full of old photos and documents. Meanwhile, Jordan and Todd, Debra’s husband were downstairs stacking our furniture on top of our table. Chairs were on top of couches, which were balancing on top of tables. They were all calm and composed and doing what had to be done to maybe possibly save what they could before it got soaked and surged by the tidal that was still a mystery to me.

I came downstairs, pile in arms, and instantly started heaving tears and stammering that this was the END! Then I realized that my brother had stored mounds of boxes in my basement after my parents sold our childhood home. I called him in a panic and explained the bus and the shuttle and the tidal surge and the looters and he probably didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, but I asked him if there was anything he wanted me to save. I sobbed and explained that I was going to lose everything and he calmed me down considerably. I slowed down and realized that it’s all just STUFF. I had never felt so helpless or scared. We had never been in harm’s way due to weather or some weird freak event, and so the helplessness was just too unfamiliar and scary. I was taking my fear and applying it to the superficial thought of losing my things, when all that really mattered was our safety.

I will cut this part into a few sentences by explaining that we all followed each other to my parents’ house and arrived safely. We stayed there for a few days, disconnected from our home, but with the mentality that we just. had. to. let. go. It was difficult, but it was all going to be ok.

After my drama-ridden tale, I will share that we came home a few days later, after updates from neighbors that everything seemed ok, with the exception of flooded streets that surrounded us.

We walked into our home and it was just as we had left it. Dry as a bone. Untouched. Safe. Sound. Tables and couches and pianos stacked. It was just fine.

I swore that after that experience I would never be so attached to my things and that I would always be able to identify 5 special things to take with me should we ever encounter a weird happening like that again. Have I done either of those things? Nope. It’s too hard to think about. What have I realized though? The power of letting go and just focusing on what’s really important is what will get you through any shitty experience. After I heard my brother’s voice on the phone and went to my parents house to reside in safety and the good company of friends and family, I felt as if I had more to be thankful for than I even knew what to do with!

When we got home, there was a weird peacefulness outside. Water-filled streets, trees down, a beautiful, cool breeze. We walked around and went down to the beach counting our blessings there and back.