We’re safely back home and watching live sports once again, although I’m not happy with what I’m seeing. I.U. football blew their opportunity for a win, Alabama was upset, and the Braves have been eliminated from the playoffs, while the Bad News Bears have the day off after losing by inches on Thursday night. I was much better off without TV. 

My internal time clock is still on Hawaiian time and my legs have yet to adjust to solid ground. I did get a full 3.1 mile run in this morning, the first of that distance in 27-days without the balance challenges of an on-board treadmill or unsteady ship’s deck. It’s been tough to get back into the routine after just three nights back. Memories of Alaska and Hawaii have been replaced with damage concerns for our home and neighborhood. 

We’re hearing some of the horror stories about Hurricane Ian and seeing the damage that surrounds us. Neighbors had to literally nail their front doors shut with the massive winds that tore apart pool cages, damaged siding, and stripped trees. I just had an inspector check our roof and attic and got a report of minimal damage. We were lucky, as I look across the street at a pile of twisted metal to be discarded. Broken roof tiles, strips of sheet metal, rubbage, and tree limbs are scattered everywhere, not to mention the uprooted palms that line our streets. Lanai screens at both our neighbor’s homes are ripped and left  flapping in the breeze. How we escaped damage I’ll never know, but there will certainly be an HOA assessment charged to every resident, so financial loss is inevitable. 

On top of fees for the inspector, gift cards for neighbors who helped ready our home while we were absent, food loss, service costs to repair an inoperative refrigerator, pool chemicals, and landscaping replacements, we’ll all be paying for this storm damage for some time to come. I’m just glad we weren’t around to experience the terror that many endured with window and door damages, leaks, flooding streets, and no power. The only turbulence we felt was the bobbing and weaving of the ship as we tried to fill our plates. There’s a definite sense of guilt in missing this neighborhood bonding experience that will be talked about for years. We have our share of heroes to thank in minimizing our losses while we were thousands of miles away.