It’s been seven weeks since Hurricane Helene destroyed our sweet little mountain town of Asheville, NC. The constant sound of helicopters, chainsaws, and generators that followed the pounding winds and torrential rain have subsided. The search and rescue teams are gone. The power trucks from all over the nation who were sent to restore electricity have mostly left. The military vehicles have thinned out. That leaves us, the townspeople, neighbors and friends, and it’s time to rebuild. Fortunately, the autumn leaves are shining bright. Hues of yellow, red, and orange are attempting to reenergize the locals with hope. However, the energy is not hopeful. The air is still very heavy with loss and grief.
I have friends who lost entire homes, businesses, and loved ones. The amount of devastation is unreal. Rivers flooded our town and homes were washed away. PBS reported 1,400 landslides which destroyed roads, bridges, and homes. Our water system was ruined. My community was living without power, water, cell service, or internet for two weeks. After week two, the power came back on. People rejoiced and stored the candles and flashlights away. We could finally use a refrigerator again. After week three cell service was restored and people purchased starlink to have internet access. Finally we didn’t have to trek to the Verizon truck that was parked outside of the local church for communication. After week four we had running water. This should be the biggest cause for celebration. Unfortunately, the water is so toxic it can only be used for flushing toilets and with the right detoxification systems we can also use it for laundry. Therefore, dishwashing, bathing, hand-washing, teeth-brushing, and face-washing is all done just how Laura Ingles Wilder described in her books. Except our little house on the prairie feels like a Climate Change war zone.
Asheville Strong is the rallying cry, and the community spirit is certainly felt. The south has a beautiful way of walking with love in their hearts. People look out for each other. They take the time to slow down and sincerely ask, “how are you?” or “do you need anything?” People are finding strength in togetherness. And there are many tears shared so people don’t feel so alone as they contemplate how to rebuild or relocate.
Those of us that have remained are trying to find some normalcy again. My daughters started school last week. The video below is a snapshot of our commute to school. They are happy to be with friends and their teachers. The school is a stable, safe place amidst the chaos. After-school activities have started again, but the daily hustle feels harder. There are so many road closures because of the landslides, road damage, and bridges washed away. It takes extra time to drive alternate routes. Traffic is present on every road and it takes double the time to get to places. Our simple commute to school was 8 minutes and now we average 25 minutes. That’s just one way!
People who have a well or live in south Asheville get the luxury of clean water. The rest of us must get creative. My form of creativity is calling upon friends who have well water. These generous people have opened their homes to both me and my girls so we can shower, cook meals, wash dishes, do laundry, and use wifi. There are services set up all over town to shower, wash laundry, and fill up buckets with potable water. Many churches and grocery store parking lots are hosting these services and the red cross is still serving free meals.
The community is busy bulldozing debris, rebuilding roads and bridges, and people are trying to find their way. People must reframe thoughts and plans constantly for this new way of being. The volunteer efforts are beautiful. People are emerging out of the shock phase. No one expected a hurricane to destroy our town, located 300 miles from the coast. Many were not notified to evacuate until it was too late. It all happened so suddenly. The trauma is still in us. We each carry it differently.
These traumatic events can lead many to ponder existential questions. People who feel pain, sadness, and navigate life with a heavy heart may root for change. Real growth happens in the painful pockets of discomfort. The falling apart and then the cracking open allows the light back in.
It is certainly painful to take an honest look at the ecological collapse around us. When devastation becomes the new backdrop for your town, there is no avoiding the truth. Global warming, the destruction of topsoils and agricultural lands, the increase in extreme weather patterns, coral reef destruction, and the plastic pollution crisis — it’s all happening.
The Earth is speaking to us. I know we can listen. Humanity is being forced to hit pause after each and every Climate Crisis. In the pause, there is an opportunity to create a new radical future. We can co-create something different. The next expression of what life will look like is forming in the minds of our children. They see the collapse, but I see them behaving differently. They are visionaries with clear eyes and a huge mission before them. The adults are shepherding this wise generation forward.
Western North Carolina will require a long time to recover and rebuild. There is no timeline for when the heaviness will leave. Community and connection is the remedy at the moment. The kindness from a neighbor or a friend is surprisingly the best medicine. The unexpected beauty is that now no one is a stranger in town because we endured this traumatic event together. We have an unspoken bond. Maybe that’s why I felt like I could cry to the waitress yesterday. Her kind eyes said, “I know how you feel, honey.” I sensed an invitation to talk. I let it out and her words coated with a southern accent soothed me. Each time I cry, I release another layer of grief. And just like the trees who are proud to let go of their brightly colored leaves, I too will stand tall and let go of the pain.
As someone so far from this tragedy it can easy to move onto the next story. Thank you for keeping the dialogue going so you, and others can heal. Please keep in touch and stay strong Asheville.
I alway feel your words in my soul. These are hard, devastating times but I, too, feel the bond in this town has grown stronger. The love and compassion people have shown for each other is like a beam of light breaking through the clouds. Love you, sister. Let me know if you need anything. ❤️🩹