Mourning for Montreat

And all affected by Hurricane Helene

Parts of my heart live outside my body. One in Washington, DC, and another in Montreat, NC.

DC has been under attack a few times, leading it to phase me less.

Montreat under attack feels like I’m under attack.

Montreat is where I go to find my footing when it feels like trauma is going to drown me.

Montreat is flooded.

The place I go to escape drowning is flooded. Infrastructure demolished. Bridges out, landslides rampant, town hall filled with floodwater.

This place I have gone to heal from the greatest traumas of my life is in the midst of the greatest trauma of its history.

This place I go sometimes is the year-round home of several family members. (I have relatives in Montreat, Black Mountain, Swannanoa, and Asheville). All have evacuated to safe lodging with relatives. Making them more fortunate than some.

The luckiest of the Helene survivors in western North Carolina are displaced—sent away from communities they love dearly as they confront catastrophe.

Those less lucky than my …