Goodbye Charley!

Normally, Gianna would have had a witty comeback for her husband, Ray's, remark about now.

But catty words seemed too trivial to utter as they stared at the dismal scene in front of them. The back of their home reduced to rubble. A tall pile of debris next to where the shady palm tree had once leaned.

Today, she was the aftermath.

She never imagined that a word like "devastation" would enter into her vocabulary. Her mind set. But being witness to a hurricane, it was the only word that seemed to do it justice. Midwestern living had ill prepared her for this – all of this. Charley had made her a believer. For as sure as she could see her brown skin before her, she knew that God himself was in those clouds yesterday. He was there, amidst the wind and the rain, testing her faith. Tampering with her fate.

It was as if the Almighty wanted to personally show her, and millions of others, that regardless of the cars, the houses, and the ATM receipts, HE could turn it all to dust.

The day before Charley hit, it had been business as usual in Gianna’s sleepy coastal community of Punta Gorda, Florida. Sure, there had been whispers and maybe a few moments of anxiety hyped up by over-eager meteorologists. But, they all said the storm was heading north, in the complete opposite direction.

Gianna and Ray had hung all the shutters around the windows, stocked up on canned goods and bottled water, "just in case." The many "just in cases" that somehow managed to have gotten lost in the shuffle of everyday life – like watching the children play outdoors while she planted a new rosebush and while Ray mowed the lawn, and, later, making love to Ray in the suddenly cool night air.

But, the next morning, Gianna knew something was wrong.

"What is it, baby," her husband asked?

"Nothing." Gianna honestly didn’t know. She felt a presence in the air – an annointing. .

A presence that called her and each one of her neighbors outside their homes to simply gaze up at the sky. Gianna saw the clouds rolling in, second by second. Then, she watched, as the sky turned as black as a well-used cast iron skillet, and the winds howled. Called out to God.

It was then that she went inside to check the local weather forecast, nothing new. The storm was still headed in the opposite direction. A category two hurricane, with winds at just under eighty miles per hour that was due to hit the "opposite" around two o’clock in the afternoon. Gianna went back out, looked up at the clouds once more.

Around one o’clock, the forecasters changed their stories, collectively. The storm was on a new course, and the "eye," the most powerful part, was headed straight for their sleepy town. It was also upgraded to a category four. The winds expected to exceed one hundred forty miles per hour.

The winds grew so loud that her youngest daughter hid under the covers. Her little hands covered her ears. Big crocodile tears soaked her cheeks. Her elder son screamed beside her. Watching them, Gianna and Ray made the decision to seek refuge in a shelter.

As the winds continued to torment the sound barrier, they loaded the children into their mini-van and drove to the nearest shelter – a middle school.

Forty-five minutes until Charley. Every car in the town raced to that one shelter. Tick. Tick. Tick. The rain began to pour in buckets. The van’s windshields couldn’t keep up with onslaught. In fact, they seemed to slow down, signaling defeat.

Finally, they made it to the shelter. But, Gianna’s heart sank when she saw that dozens of cars were being turned away.

"Too full!"

"Turn around!"

Thirty minutes before the storm. Somebody stop the clock.

"To hell with that," Ray said. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and pressed his foot against the accelerator. The van made a beeline into oncoming traffic toward the school’s gymnasium near the back of the building.

"Ten minutes until we bolt the doors people," a burly-looking man called out.

Volunteers milled about, shouting orders. "Sign here." "Water and food over here." They directed them into a mass of huddled bodies spread throughout the floor of the gym. Red, white, brown and yellow people, bound in a tightknit group, trying to escape Charley’s wrath.

Some of the people looked as if they’d already been sitting there for days. They lay on air mattresses, and blankets made in shapes of makeshift beds. A few of the comforts of home at their feet – televisions, radios, flashlights. Toys from home.

"Toys, oh, shit! I forgot their toys!" Ray took off running for the exit door.

"I’m sorry, sir, but we’re about to close these doors now," a volunteer said.

"But, I need to get my kid’s toys."

"Go ahead. But hurry up!"

Gianna waited, too afraid to move inside the mass circle. After what seemed like hours, Ray returned, soaked from head to toe, with coloring books, crayons and building blocks in hand.

Two o’clock exactly, and the doors slammed shut. Slam. Fade to black. A few screams rang out from the huddle. Gianna said a silent prayer just as Charley knocked out the power. Thunder began to shake the building, it’s very foundation, while the winds played a game of cat and mouse with the windows. The school’s one generator brought a shimmer of light back to the room to reflect the looks of fear, panic and astonishment on the mass of nameless faces.

With no power, the only running water available was leaking from the roof above them. The pungent stink from the overflowing toilets and foreign bodies was getting to be too much for Gianna. The children, bored with their rescued toys, began to reach out in search of mischief.

Five hours in the shelter waiting for Charley to leave, and the only thing she vividly recalled was the little Hispanic girl with the wide-set eyes and the yellow bow in her long hair. The girl that had sat beside her for most of the night. The one that remained on her knees the entire time. One of her hands tightly clenched around a teddy bear, the other, a large golden crucifix.

It was this image – the one of the girl – that stopped her from dropping to the ground. They had no home. All she saw before her was a deferred dream on top of the empty promises made by the government and the insurance company. She had little faith in man now.

Now, she figured that in the classic man versus nature plot, man will always lose. In her aftermath, Gianna discovered that material possessions were nothing but dust in the hands of the Almighty. And, in the debris she found a deeper appreciation for her family and His power.

While she knew it would take a while to fully recover, Gianna was comforted in being safe. In being alive. All that mattered – right now – was her husband’s hand in hers’. His arm securely around her. Charley had taught her that.