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When student understood the enormity of Katrina, she could only cry The storm that was soon to batter the Deep South and change people's lives forever was nothing but a minor distraction to me at the time. I had no idea at the time that all of us would soon be changed by the worst natural disaster in American history. I remember Saturday, Aug. 27, vividly. Nothing particularly exciting was happening, even though it was my first weekend back at USM for my sophomore year. I was itching to go to New Orleans , however, and so was my best friend, Brandon. We both decided at the last minute that New Orleans was too expensive for our budgets and stayed in Hattiesburg that night. We ended up drinking with friends and I passed out somewhere around 4 a.m. I awoke Sunday morning to the shrill sound of my phone. My mother had called in a state of panic, saying something about a category five hurricane and that I needed to get home immediately. I asked my mother where it was heading and she replied angrily. "It is coming right for us," she said. "I don't want you in Hattiesburg ; I want you in Wiggins." I told my mother that I would call her back, and I would see what my friends were doing. My roommates had to stay in Hattiesburg because they would get stuck in gridlocked traffic if they attempted to go back up to Brandon, right outside Jackson . Brandon was only two hours away, but it was taking some people up to five hours to get there. My best friend was going to stay in Hattiesburg with my roommates because his family lived in a trailer in Wiggins. Wiggins is 30 miles south of Hattiesburg and 30 miles north of the Mississippi Gulf Coast , so Brandon explained it would make no sense to try and be closer to the storm. I called my mother and told her I decided to stay in Hattiesburg . After much crying and begging, she decided that it would be okay. I would just have to call her every 30 minutes the next day when the storm hit. After finding out that two more of my friends were staying with us, I decided to go to the store and stock up on food. I bought every non-perishable item that was left after the surge of panicked customers had already bought out most of Wal-Mart. When I filled up my tank and bought four packs of cigarettes, I was ready to go. The storm wouldn't arrive until the next morning, on Monday, August 29. The storm seemed to fly by. Trees fell, one landed on my car, and the wind blew. We had no idea what was going on around us. The last person I talked to was my grandmother, who explained that she couldn't get in touch with my mother in Wiggins. Then the phones stopped working. And for the first time in my life, I felt technologically cut off from the rest of the world. The storm subsided, as all hurricanes do. Brandon and my two friends Denton and Daniel decided they wanted to go and survey the damage. I wanted to see myself, so I got into Denton 's vehicle, which had been missed by the oak tree which had managed to slam into my car only. The damage seemed bad, but not any worse than before. We went to bed that Monday night, exhausted from being up all day. The next day I tried to call my mother, but the phones were out. Brandon and I decided to drive to Wiggins and see my family. We had to go on another route because Highway 49 was being taken over by military trucks. That is when we became concerned. No hurricane had ever shut down Highway 49 before, at least for as long as we both had lived in south Mississippi . We arrived in Wiggins two hours after we had left Hattiesburg . Wiggins is normally a 30-minute drive away. When we got to my house my parents had left and placed a note on the door explaining they were coming to see me in Hattiesburg . Brandon and I decided to survey the damage in our hometown and were shocked. Trees covered yards, roofs had blown off and people had no power. The damage was greater than we had imagined. My parents and I eventually met up at my house, and my family decided to go to Pennsylvania , the place where I had spent most of my childhood. When we got to Tennessee we decided to stay there for the evening. The television told the story of the hurricane for us. The Coast was basically gone. New Orleans was under water. Nobody knew what to do. Help wasn't getting anywhere fast enough. People were shooting each other over bags of ice. That is when the enormity of what went wrong hit me, and I began to cry. I cried for Hattiesburg . I cried for The Coast. I cried for New Orleans . I cried for the friends I couldn't contact and for the people I left behind in the mess. I wanted to go home more than I ever had wanted to in my life. The people in Pennsylvania were kind. They saw our license plate was from Mississippi and offered help. They asked about our family and friends and wanted to hear our stories. I mostly just cried. There were those people who scoffed at us. They wondered why we would live in a place that could get destroyed, why a city would be built below sea level, and why we would ever go back. I gave those people a piece of my mind. We eventually went home, and I immediately started cleaning and living life as though nothing happened. I didn't want the naysayers to win. Hurricane Katrina was a blur. I can't even fully make sense of what happened now, in May. Sitting on the cusp of another hurricane season makes me wonder why I'm back. Then I realize everything. People are resilient, and they are rebuilding. The South is just as important as anywhere else, and it is our home. No matter what happens to us, we will move on. Katrina was a big bump in the road, but we are now wiser for it. When another hurricane hits, we will be ready, and we will be back.
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