Bouncing Back

I’ve been through some difficult situations in my life and I’ve always bounced back. I always know I’ll bounce back and that makes it easier to get through whatever the difficulty is, but I have to say that I wasn’t so sure about my resiliency this last time around. I will admit to a few moments…  maybe more than a few…  where I wondered if I’d ever bounce again.

I trudged from my car to the front doors of my school one morning a couple of weeks ago after spending the evening at the hospital and the early morning talking to doctors and a couple of boys who had arrived very early were kicking a deflated playground ball against the wall of the school. Instead of bouncing back, the ball thudded against the wall and dropped to the ground. The boys would go and retrieve the ball and kick it again…  it thudded and dropped.

I was that ball. I was deflated and empty and thudding along.

I kept hoping that the one person I always thought would be there for me would know I was in trouble and he would find me, but he didn’t. I didn’t call him because I was afraid he wouldn’t come even if I called and I would have been more deflated than I already was and who needs that?

And then the tornado hit.  That’s not a metaphor for anything. I’m talking about a real tornado. An EF-4… in November. It barreled through the heart of my hometown and wiped almost 400 houses right off the face of the planet, one of them being the house I grew up in. 

I became the person that I am today in Washington, Illinois.  I don’t live in there anymore but my sister and my aunts and uncles and cousins do. I’m not really a Chicago girl. I will never be a suburban soccer mom. At my core I’m a Midwestern farm girl and that tornado nearly knocked the remaining air right out of me.

Last night I drove to Washington, my car loaded with donations from my friends and colleagues and strangers in my new community. I drove by myself, wanting that one person in the seat next to me. My heart was in my throat the entire way there and I wanted him to be with me, but he wasn’t.

I followed a parade of heavy equipment into town. Bright construction lights all over town lit up the night sky and my heart pounded. I’d seen the destruction on television, but I didn’t know what to expect when I saw it with my own eyes.

The reality was that it was horrible. I don’t have words to describe it. Some people used words like ‘war zone,’ but no… it wasn’t a war zone. It didn’t look like a bomb went off. I just don’t have words for it.

But then…  I saw the people. People working together to clear debris. People holding up other people. People coming from everywhere to help. One man drove from New Orleans and cooked jambalya for a thousand people. People brought trucks and tents and tarps and shovels and rakes and garbage bags and water and strong backs and big hearts.

I dropped off the donations to some very grateful volunteers, told them I’d be back in a few days, and I got back in my car and drove home.

And tonight I’m bouncing off the walls.

You can follow me on Twitter: @ceceliahalbert.