5 • Continued from previous page radio. I remember that radio clearly, the voice of the announcer cutting through the hum of worry that hadn’t yet reached full volume. I stood by the front door and watched the breadfruit tree swaying, wondering to myself, when is this storm even going to start? And as the winds picked up slowly, I noticed my neighbours boarding up windows and running last-minute errands outside. Surprisingly seeing all the extra efforts to board up didn’t ring any alarm bells for me, even with Irma already having developed into a category five storm. Perhaps it was the fact that at that point I had yet to experience a true natural disaster, or maybe the stillness of the sky and the calm but forceful breeze fooled me into believing everything would be alright. But that didn’t last long. A voice on the radio filled the room with commentary on the storm. Then suddenly, that same voice started calling names. People whose homes had already been breached were crying out for help live on the air. And then, silence. The radio went dead. And the world outside got loud. The Aftermath The wind roared like a living thing. The air pressure inside the house shifted. It felt thick, like we were underwater. Everything happened so fast it was like time collapsed. The calm forceful breeze was but a distant memory as it began lifting any and everything in its path. I looked out through a crack in our shutters and saw our washer and dryer being tossed around like empty soda cans. I immediately grew concerned as our dog was outside and I feared she’d be crushed or blown away. Simultaneously water began pooling at my feet as the wind swept the rain under the cracks of our door. My dad was already searching for towels while my mom went to check the bedroom. And then came the scream. My mother’s voice, sharp and panicked, rang through the house. The bedroom window had blown in. Wind, water, and glass burst into the room. My parents rushed to shut the door and yelled for my cousin and me to get to the kitchen and sit on the floor. That’s when I heard the commotion upstairs. We live in an apartment-style family home. Our relatives on the top floor were suddenly evacuating because the roof had peeled off. This led to even more water leaking into our home from above. I remember crouching Stepping outside the following morning felt like walking onto a movie set. I remember thinking back to an attraction at Universal Studios based on the movie Twister. I had gone on that ride multiple times as a child, and even then, it scared me. The sound of the wind, the rumble, the way the storm tore everything apart in seconds. But that? That was nothing compared to what I saw in real life. It looked like a bomb had dropped on my beautiful Virgin Islands. The vibrant greens we were known for were gone. The hillsides were stripped bare. Debris blanketed every inch of road. Power lines were tangled like webs. Wood, concrete, metal, and plants were scattered as far as the eye could see. It was surreal; and I wasn’t alone in my shock. All around me, people stepped out of their homes like survivors in a dystopian film, slowly taking in the devastation that surrounded us. The days that followed blurred together. I remember news crews flying in, their cameras aimed directly at my community. My home became a backdrop for the • Continues on next page low, stricken with fear, praying in whispers and then singing Sunday school hymns out loud to calm myself. My mind couldn’t keep up. I was so overwhelmed that everything went blank. I just kept repeating to myself, God, please protect us. I don’t want to die. Then came the eye. The Eye of The Storm The winds died down and for a moment there was just silence. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath. We used that sliver of calm to attempt an evacuation to a nearby shelter, only to find it had already been destroyed. Its windows were shattered. The roof was torn off. Cars were flipped over or crushed by debris, and the ground was littered with glass and power lines. It didn’t feel real. We rushed back home, because ironically our damaged house had become the safer option. We rode out the rest of the storm that night in darkness, soaked in fear and disbelief.
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