What did I have to lose? If God was trying to give me a hint, I heard Him, this time. The second floor was on the sidewalk. The first floor was no where to be found. The house looked like it had been kicked over by a bratty baby giant. There was nothing left. This was the second storm to level the house my grandfather built. I didn’t have the strength or patience to rebuild it, again. The place was too big for me anyway. Family didn’t come around like they used to, anymore. There was no point in trying to start over in this place.
I didn’t have much left. The furniture was destroyed by the flood. My bedroom was on the first floor. My clothes probably weren’t worth salvaging. They were probably moldy from the summer heat and humidity. I wouldn’t be able to get in to see if there were any pictures or other items that could be rescued, until what was left of the structure was deemed sound. All I had left were the clothes on my back and my car.
I took a few pictures of what was left of the house. The house. It didn’t even feel like home anymore. I wiped the corner of my eye. I don’t know if the moisture was a droplet of sweat or a tear drop. I walked back to my car an willed myself not to look back. I remembered the story of Lot and his family leaving Sodom and Gomorrah. I remembered what happened to his wife. I couldn’t look back. There was nothing in this place for me anymore. I got in my car and drove away without looking in the rear view mirror. As painful and dramatic as this uprooting was going to be for me, I decided to make the best of it.
I had a bucket list, and now seemed to be as good a time as any to chip away at it. I decided that the West was calling me. So I pointed my car in that direction and decided to answer the call. After all, what did I have to lose?