March 17, 2022
United by Difference in New York City
By Lisa Herforth-Hebbert
Hurricane Irma forced my family to leave our home, but new friends in NYC helped me feel like I belong.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This article was originally published by Youth Communications and is reposted here with permission. YC is a nonprofit publisher of teen-written stories and curriculum to help educators strengthen the social and emotional skills of youth.
A heavy pot blew through the window in a flurry of wind and rain. The seal was broken. Pop! Pop! Pop! The rest of the windows came crashing out of the walls, and the house began to flood. My family and I worked tirelessly to keep the water out, but we couldn’t stop the water any more than we could stop the coming changes.
In 2017, Hurricane Irma hit Virgin Gorda, one of the British Virgin Islands (BVI). The Category 5 monstrosity reduced cell towers to metal stumps, tore through electricity poles, and turned trees into skeletons. Grocery stores that had been hollowed out by anxious buyers before the hurricane had sunken roofs and battered walls. Our house was left standing, but our car and the home next to ours was destroyed.
With no means of communication, and facing food scarcity, my family and I were in a dire situation. After a week, my mother, two younger siblings, and I were evacuated via helicopter to Puerto Rico. Women and children were flown out first, so my father stayed behind. He made most of his meals of coconuts until he was sick of them. We laugh about this now, but it was not funny at the time.
