As a displaced Texans, in the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey, we are reminded every day of “things” that were lost in the waters that enveloped our home.
First and foremost, my children are homeless. Maybe I should instead say that they are without a house. We have a home. It’s an RV that some friends generously are allowing us to borrow to live in while we try and rebuild our home. You see, my children have grown up as Air Force brats and are well versed with moving every 11 months to 4 years. Although, their hearts ached every time we had to move, and they had to leave special friends behind and amazing church families, they would still jump into those moving trucks and head for our newest home without any arguing or pleading. My kids are extraordinary! They pick up, move on, make new friends, and live like they’ve lived somewhere forever.
This time, however, it isn’t our choice. My husband is retired from the Air Force and we don’t have to pick up and move every few years anymore (but the itch is there). A little tropical depression sat on Texas for days and dumped over 50 inches of rain and took our home with it. With no flood insurance (because it’s not supposed to flood where our home is), we now have a mortgage for a home we can’t live in and only the money FEMA will give us to rebuild….