Harvey Dispatch: 3 feet

I woke up every 2 hours or so Thursday night, stomach grinding at the thought of my parents getting to their house.

We waited on tender hooks all morning until 9:20 a.m. when Eric sent a text saying "3'..."

A few minutes later mom wrote one word, "Horrible."

And then we didn't hear from anyone for FOREVER.

I sat at work for a few minutes, stunned, telling colleagues the update and reading internet shopping lists. A cousin asked if she could send money to help buy supplies, a friend asked if she could get supplies from her husband's shop and buy snacks and food for me to bring from the grocery store. I started to move- telling my boss I had to go, changing my time sheet to "vacation leave" for the rest of the day and week. Finding a sub for my two barre classes. Canceling a sitter and reservation for tonight to celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary. Posting on facebook to ask for generators, shop vacs, fans, and more. Running home to throw clothes I didn't mind ruining in a bag, while coordinating supply drop-offs and making a Home Depot shopping list.

James cleaned out his car, thoughtfully leaving his fins in the front seat.

We went to Home Depot and bought everything- shovels, box fans, cleaner, trash bags, masks, gloves, sprayers, and an entire case of bug spray. A man next to us in line said, "Going to Houston?" "Yep," I replied. "Me too," he said, with a stack of box fans 3 feet high.

I went to Target and got one of every brush and sponge they sold. And bleach, so much bleach.

We loaded up the Suburban, greeting friends as they dropped off items. My uncle, who lives in Houston too, drove over from Southlake where he was staying with his aunt after flying home from the hospital in Minneapolis and being diverted to DFW. We filled it up until there wasn't any room and then I shoved in my bag and a diet coke and kissed the kids goodbye, one week to the day from when I returned from being by my unconscious grandfather's side.

I left at 3:45, still without any contact from my family, but assuming I was needed and hoping I'd bought the right things. The reality of driving 4.5 hours in a car I'm not comfortable in on highways next to trucks that make me hyperventilate hit me about an hour down I-45, but I white-knuckled it, used my yoga breathing, and listened to Pod Save America while tearing up every few minutes seeing all the trucks on the road with me loaded down with hurricane clean-up supplies. There was a feeling of solidarity on that drive, even as I got nauseous every time I got trapped between a highway divider and semi-truck.

The highway by the house is still closed, but google maps got me on an alternate route. The neighborhood looked okay at first and then BAM. The air hit you first. Heavy and abrasive, it burned my eyes and throat with the car windows up. Piles of water-logged trash higher than the Suburban I was driving in. Flooded-out cars just haphazardly placed all over the street wherever their owners or the water left them. Debris everywhere. I have lived through some floods and this was like nothing I'd ever seen.

I pulled up to my parents' house in shock. Trash, furniture, insulation, mud, and dry-wall everywhere. My mom walked out, covered in mud and dust, saw me, and started to cry. Rattled and shaky from the drive, I walked over and gave her a hug. She cried more. Holy shit you guys, it's just so much.

They'd made tremendous progress. Eric had a crew of 6 friends come over who worked like crazy for 10 hours. They'd cleared out the smelly sludge and slime from the floors, shop vac'd out the water, cut out and removed nearly all the drywall below the waterline, and ripped out the carpeting. I know it was SO MUCH. But oh my god, looking at their beautiful home just broke my heart.

I showed them the supplies I'd brought, when they asked how much they owed me, I was so glad to be able to say it was all a gift from friends and family. They'd gotten power somewhere along my drive, so they were able to set up my fans immediately and start closing up the house. The doors are so swollen they couldn't close them, but eventually a mallet was able to do the trick. Most of their possessions are up on the second floor, so it was hard to leave it behind knowing the house wasn't secured, but as my mom said - you can only worry about so much at once.

She told me a little more about their day. Friends who weren't flooded coming by to check on them, taking her nice work dresses to be dry cleaned, taking their wet clothes from their drawers to wash at their homes. Eric's friends who worked like crazy. Other friends dropping off lunch because they couldn't leave the work. They're so lucky in so many ways, but when you pause to take a breath it is still crushing.

We got to Eric's condo last night around 11. Dad showed me his insurance claim work and we made an action plan for today. I need to find them an apartment. They need to call a few more insurance people. Mom's car flooded out; dad's has damage but still works. The boat and jet skis are gone. And of course, the house.

Mom's taking a shower before we head to Target to get more storage bins so they can clear out what they can salvage from the downstairs. I've got a list of apartments to stop at on our way in. My brother-in-law is on his way down from Colorado with a work truck of supplies. His family also lives in Kingwood and has a house in Rockport that needs to be cleaned and boarded up. Also, his sister had a baby yesterday. In Houston, just to keep things exciting.

There's so much. It's a marathon, but it's also a sprint. Stop the water damage. Keep things from getting worse. Prepare to live somewhere else for an undetermined amount of time. I haven't seen Kingwood yet- normally you drive through it to get to my parents' new place, but I had to take an alternate route as parts are still under water. It's going to be a physical blow.

One thing I've realized is that pictures and video don't come close to capturing the overwhelming nature of a flooded house when you walk in the door- the oppressive feeling of wet, the slime, the smell, the humidity, and the thick clogged air. Eric took a quick video as they left last night after 13 hours of work; it gives an idea, but only just.

Today will be hard. They're tired, the adrenaline is a bit worn off and even knowing they got so much work done yesterday, it's going to be hard to walk in the house and see how much is left. But truly, they are the fortunate ones. They have help. They have insurance. They are supported. We can do this.

But goddamn, it is hard.