Well, we left, but moving a million or so folks doesn’t come easy. Once we crossed the Mississippi River, we stuck to the backroads. Traveling was slow, but we made it to my brother’s house near Wesson, Miss. shortly before midnight. Watching people frantically pack their lives and head down the highway was wrenching. Heck, heading out from our own home and leaving Julio did not feel good.
Just before we left, we heard there’s a possible storm surge in Lafayette of 22 feet — who knows if that will really happen, but that’s what the man on the radio said as I shut the door to our car to head down the road. A reminder: We live in a primarily glass house surrounded by giant, old trees on the river about 20 miles from the bay. It was a strange feeling leaving and knowing that that place we love so much could become like those places bereft of all life like I visited in New Orleans in the weeks and months after Katrina.
Not good. We’ll go to church here in Wesson with my brother and his family tomorrow, and then head on to my parents’ home in Forest, Miss. We don’t know how long we’ll stay or how long school will be cancelled in Lafayette. Everything is about playing it day by day at this point.
For those from Lafayette reading this, sorry for the redundancy of everything you’re already living. I was just trying to let our friends and family in other places know what’s going on as Gustav churns toward Louisiana. May he dissolve into a thousand small showers. More later.