My Way Home

It's been a week since Hurricane Ike ravaged the Texas coastline, and I'm surprised (and a little mad at myself) that I haven't been keeping up with the aftermath. This is the second time my family's been impacted by a hurricane, and while I know that my sister and her daughter made it safely home to West Texas before the storm hit, that's the extent of what I know. You'd think I'd be more in tune with the goings on in my home state after such a tragedy. Unfortunately, I'm in my own little world up in the Pacific Northwest.

Being so far away has contributed to my ignorance because I'm not in the thick of it up here in Portland. I can watch the footage on CNN or the Weather Channel and be informed, but it doesn't directly impact my daily life, but it should. My family and friends are dealing with the fallout while I sit up in Oregon complaining about a few clouds in the sky. I feel guilty. I feel like I should be back in Texas recovering like my brethren.

The one way that Hurricane Ike did affect me was it convinced me that I need to move back as soon as possible. Over the last couple of years I've learned the valuable lesson that at the end of the day all you have is family. I've been away from mine for too long now, and I need to be closer to them. I need to be there the next time something like this happens so I can take the punches alongside those that mean the most to me.

My family, friends, and fellow Texans are in my thoughts and prayers...no matter how few and far between they may be.