The year was 1992, and Hurricane Andrew gave us the most haunting visit South Florida had seen in over thirty years. The voice in the radio came booming through, like a wrecking ball in full swing. Stores were running out of supplies faster than the stock boys could bring them out from storage. Bottled water, canned goods, batteries, and candles were more precious than the brightest of diamonds imaginable. I gathered as much as I could get my hands on, and rushed to the checkout. The store’s parking lot resembled a madhouse; however, a few blocks away, the streets were deserted, like a scene from an old western. All I could see was the dust flying about on the streets, yet these winds were very different. These winds were cold and eerie, and they pushed all around me.
I pulled into my driveway and made my way inside the house. I was just in time to see my husband looking so impressive in his uniform; he was ready to leave as his call of duty required. After we gave each other a long embrace, he was gone. Standing there alone, I wondered if this would be the last time I ever saw him alive. I made my way into the kitchen, where Elizabeth, my sister-in-law, as well as her two children sat around the table. Her husband was a policeman as well and had left with my husband due to the rapidly approaching disaster.
With winds of up to 196 mph, this was the third category-5 hurricane to hit the U.S. on record. Although it was mid-afternoon, the skies darkened, even though the forecast for this monster was not to arrive until late at night. As we listened intently, we hung on every word that came from that small radio in the kitchen as if our very lives depended on it, and they did. Rain fell from the heavens like sheets of white blankets that were being tossed about by the winds. As lighting lit up the sky, we could see branches, patio chairs, and pieces of wood flying though the air. It was an incredibly spooky sight to see the windows and glass doors in the house shaking as if they were made of paper. Darkness filled most of the night, and the howling of the wind only became louder as the clock kept ticking, which was the slowest I had ever heard it tick. Elizabeth and I tried our best to keep our minds occupied, entertaining the children so they would not be afraid. It took all of our efforts to hide our own fears from them