Several days ago I made the round of evacuation shelters talking to those who have been staying there and offering assistance to any who needed help mucking out their homes and yards. It didn't take long to hear and realize those in the shelters don't have homes to muck. Their houses are gone. It was some of the most gut-wrenchingly difficult work I've done to date. I won't do it again. I can't handle it. There are limits to how much I can continue to put myself through.
We did come across one woman, Mrs. M. who asked for help in taking the clutter out from her home so she could find her valuables. She lives/lived alone in a two-story home. This is what it looks like now (from the side).
This is what the house looks like inside. I should point out I had her permission to take pictures.
This is what her garden looks like now.
In other words there's a boat where her garden used to be.
This is the scenery across from her home. Note, she lives about a kilometer in from the ocean.
Down the street from her home is this.
An enlarged image of the "box" at the end of the street (a house on its side) looks like this.
At the risk of stating the obvious, Mrs. M. won't be moving back into her home. Where she'll go next is unclear. These are the stories that hit me in ways words don't do justice.
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