I was going to write something else

But then Hurricane Helene hit Asheville

First of all, Mom and Dad are OK. They’ve had damage to their house, but they’re fine.

Mom and Dad live southeast of Asheville. On Thursday, things seemed like they’d be okay. They’d had a lot of rain, but Mom was able to get out and run some errands. She said they’d stay home on Friday, though, and that they wouldn’t have an issue with flooding at their house.

That was true, but two large trees fell on the roof at 6:30 Friday morning. Fortunately, it was over the office and not their bedroom. Unfortunately, water poured in. They spent three hours on the “bucket brigade,” as she called it. I learned this via text message. That afternoon, they left their house and realized they couldn’t get anywhere. There were trapped. But, they could get to a spot where they had a slight signal and called me. 

The call kept dropping, but through text messages they managed to give me their insurance agent’s phone number and their policy number. I left a message, but I called corporate and was able to get an emergency claim filed for them.

By Saturday morning I began seeing the horrifying images and videos. Chimney Rock Village: gone. Pieces of I-40: gone. No roads open into Asheville. Biltmore Village flooded. Riverside Arts District: flooded. So many places I’d seen during my many visits: gone.

I called their local fire department. They live in a small community, so it’s volunteer-run. It went to voicemail, of course. I left a message that a couple trees had fallen on my parents’ house and asked if they could please do a wellness check. I’d barely hung up when Mom and Dad called.

Oh God, the relief. I was even more relieved to hear their tone. They seemed surprisingly upbeat. They told me how they’d met the neighbors on their small street, finally, after ten years. They gave neighbors with chainsaws bottles of wine because the neighbors used those chainsaws to clear trees from their neighborhood streets.

Never in my life did I think the phrase "gave neighbors with chainsaws bottles of wine" would be a positive statement.

A few hours later they sent a message saying they’d been able to get to the fire department and get on a list for tree removal. 

I waited, again. Doomscrolled. Watched every Reel and video that popped into my feed about Western North Carolina. I took solace in the fact that I knew they had food and a gas grill. I’d said as much that morning. “Yeah, you know we’ve got that side burner,” Dad said. “Your mother prepared scrambled eggs and I cooked them on it.”

“They were delicious!” she exclaimed.

I had to laugh. Dad’s had that grill for years. That was the first time I think he even opened the cover on that side burner. And with that, I knew they’d be fine.

Hoped, anyway. I’m still worried. My phone is with me at all times, the ringer on. They called this morning. No water. So they asked me to help them find a way out and a hotel room in Hickory so they could get supplies.

Hickory wasn’t happening. Too close. 

I found a route. Fortunately, their town is on the southeast side of Asheville and I’d already heard US-26 was open into South Carolina. 

As I write this, they’re halfway to Charlotte. I know they’ll call me once they’re settled in, but I don’t expect to hear from them until they talk to their insurance adjuster. He called me a little bit ago. That poor man, who lives in Atlanta, said he’s probably going to be in Asheville for the next six months, away from his home and family.

That’s not something I would have thought about. 

Throughout all this, I know I’m lucky. My parents are safe. They’re okay. So many people have no idea what’s happening with their loved ones. So many people have been lost. So many people have lost everything.

I have a conference in Chapel Hill in two weeks. I’d always planned to spend a couple days with my parents beforehand. Now it’s vital. 

Right now I don’t know what to say. I feel like I should have some wise words, something comforting, I don’t know, something besides this. But my emotions are like a Gordian knot, all twists and turns and I don’t know what’s up or which will show up next. All I can do is hope and pray and cry in gratitude that they’re okay.

With Mom and Dad a year ago on the Blue Ridge Parkway

Love,

Theresa