Andrea sat on the hardwood floor of her 19th century farmhouse. As she looked around the room, she could see tatters of her former existence strewn and scattered in soggy, mushy piles of scum. Here and there she could pick out specks of her life before, a picture of her last family reunion with part of a smiling face here, a Wal-mart receipt there. Her eyes travelled up the walls where flowered wallpaper bubbled and peeled from where she had so frustratingly hung it seven years before. At the time her raw anger at her lack of arts-and-crafts savoir faire was as big as day. It was all so trivial now. Her eyes contiuned up the walls, stopping at a handmade clock her son had made. Amazingly, the waterline stopped only inches before it. It's a wonder the clock made it through the storm alive. The second hand was still moving. Huh. No matter what happens, time still goes on, doesn't it God?

As Andrea rose from where she was seated, she brushed the dampness from her backside and just sighed. The stench was nauseating. Mildew hung in the air like laundry out to dry. It was just there, pungent and present with each breath of breeze that flowed through her desolate, empty house. At least she made it back though. After staying stranded in that old school gymnasium with strangers, it was actually almost nice that she was back on her own land. The gym was lousy with brawls and human body odor, people fighting over little things like food and sleeping space. At least they were still alive.

Tears welled up from beneath Andrea's stomach, from the core of her body all the way to her eyes. Sorrow wracked her frame with sobs as she doubled over. She hadn't seen Gerald or Jayjay since they went out to find food. She never, never should have let Jayjay go. Oh how he begged and pleaded though.

Please Momma? Can't I go with Dad? We'll just be gone for a minute, the supermarket is right down the road. I'll be right next to Dad the whole time. I just wanna see if Bobby's okay, okay? Bobby Russell was okay all right. He was at the gym with his father and mother. One big happy, smelly, sweaty family.

Andrea's son and husband were still alive. They had to be. Gerry isn't the type of guy who would let a little wind mess up his whole entire live. They found shelter, she knew it. Maybe they're in a different stinky gym. Maybe they spent the night on the roof of the supermarket and were rescued by a passing helicopter. Maybe they're on TV right now with some news anchor, pleading for people to look for her. They'll be back. Where else could they go? It's not like the truck had a boatload of gasoline in it. With prices as high as they are now, Gerald would be stubborn enough to walk home with Jayjay on his back. As if they could get the truck here anyway. The roads were so full of debris and muck, it would take months for the road commission to fix all the damage that was done.

She'd wait. Andrea was resilient. She bent down to search through to cupboards for anything salvageable. Nothing much. She could use the bucket that they got from the hardware store to carry things in. It was better than nothing.

Nothing. That's what they had now. That's what she had now. Not one thing to prove how wonderful her life used to be. It wasn't perfect by any means. They still had bills to pay and a mortgage to keep. At least Andrea had Gerald and Jayjay. None of the other things mattered now.

God, please let Jayjay and Gerry be all right. I don't care what else happens, I just need them...please? Andrea sat down on the bucket and cried. She cried for all the people in that stinky gym and how they'd be coming home to the exact same thing she did. She cried for all people who lost all their worldly possessions in two days. She cried for all the people who lost their family.

Andrea cried for the fiftieth time that afternoon when she heard hope step through the door.

"Momma?"