October 10, 2018…… the date of hurricane Michael.
June 2019 we are en route towards Mexico Beach, Florida via Panama City. We had begun seeing footprints of the carnage around Greenville, Florida; tarped roofs, leaning trees.
As we got into the town of Lynn Haven the story quickly came to another chapter. Driveways were filled with dumpsters, debris, and campers. The option of purchasing a camper in the crisis, much more economical than renting rooms and having to be in constant motion as residents are shuffled around hotel rooms for the tourist.
Panama City itself is decorated with pleas for help and pride.
We arrive at Tyndall Air Force base. The trees are frozen in the motion of the storm. The next section, they are snapped at identical junctures, looking like broken bones. You can now see the ocean from the road. It seems impossible if one looks at a map of the vast scope of this territory that was covered in green density.
The wind is whipping, and the clouds are dark, as if mother nature has permanently haunted the environment.
Approaching Mexico Beach, there is debris that has affixed itself to driftwood and surviving trees; trash flags are dominant still.
The supplemental funding was only recently passed in May.
Torn flags are up, people are together, and one feels a sense of reverence and perplexity for all of our people, in all of the storms, that have been left to fend for themselves.
