Deciding what kind of house to have in Texas comes with a matter-of-fact attitude.
You have to know what will happen, if let’s say, a tornado hits…or a hurricane…or a flash flood. So when we decided on a trailer, we knew its chances of survival in a crisis were zilch. So after Hurricane Claudette, when we came back, and it looked like a sardine can had its top popped off, we all looked at each other with a mixture of sadness and “what-the-hell-just-happened.” There was only one thing left to do.
We built a bonfire.
My family, all of my family, Grandma, Popo, Uncle Rudy, Uncle Ronald, Uncle Jim, Aunt Lydia…
Let’s just say there were a lot of people. We tore our house to pieces with sledgehammers, wall by wall.
My dad fell through the floor, and my sister had to go to the hospital for inhaling insulation, but overall, we survived.
The black Texas sky was studded with stars as we finished throwing the last of the two-by-fours into the fire. As the flames enveloped what was our house, my entire family stood together, hand on shoulder and hand in hand. There were beers going around, ghost stories, and tag between the cousins.
Laughter went up as the smoke did.