Trying to reason with Hurricane Season

Ten o’clock at night on I-55 in Holmes County, Mississippi is normally very dark and very lonely.  Not tonight.  Headlights were lined up as far as he could see. He was driving south from Memphis. They were driving north from New Orleans.  It looked like the line of cars from the end of the movie of Field of Dreams.

A major hurricane was heading toward the Gulf coast.  And Katrina’smemory was fresh on everyone’s mind.  He leaned over and flipped his car’s radio to WWL out of New Orleans.  “GET OUT!” the radio announcer screamed. From the looks of the traffic, people were heeding his call.

He pulled off in Durant to fill his car’s gas tank  (another lesson learned during Katrina.)  Civilization ground to a halt after that b*tch slammed ashore and gas supplies dried up.  Gas lines in the Jackson area led to fist fights — and worse.  He looked over at the scared family from New Orleans at the pump next to him.  The two small children’s faces pressed against the van’s glass.  A small dog sat barking between them.  And their mother’s eyes were bloodshot red as she pumped gas.  Six years later, their worst nightmare was replaying.  He slid his credit card in the pump and began to refill his tank.

The full moon  lit the night sky.  He could see the clouds whipping past the moon from the east. This was very unusual. Mississippi’s weather normally came from the south or the west.  This was another bad omen.   A warm breeze blew across his face. It felt like dog’s breath.  The Gulf was marching in. The Category 5 storm’s invasion would be here in 48 hours.

The last time, during Katrina, he had a front row seat for the storm — and ended up swimming for his life.  The water had swallowed his Waveland home and his parents with it.  He, by sheer dumb luck, escaped the collapsing house and swam to a tree.  The debris. The screams. The wind. The death. The six years of nightmares.  Six years of guilt. Rinse and repeat.

He looked at the lady pumping gas again. He completely understood why her eyes were red.  He nodded and she nodded back. Only a Katrina survivor would understand.

The gas pump spit out a receipt and he hopped back in his car.  He turned out of the station and then south on I-55.  He put in his favorite Jimmy Buffett CD  in the stereo and cranked the volume.  And as he headed toward the storm, the song “Trying to Reason with Hurricane Season” came on.

Squalls out on the Gulfstream,
Big storms coming soon.
I passed out in my hammock,
God, I slept way past noon.
Stood up and tried to focus,
I hoped I wouldn’t have to look far.
I knew I could use a Bloody Mary,
So I stumbled next door to the bar.

Sleep would come tonight. And so would the nightmares.  But he wasn’t quite sure he’d ever learn to reason with hurricane season.  He was tired of trying.

He reached over to the passenger seats where his parent’s urns sat and patted them.  “We’re going home mom and dad. We’re going home.”