Canadaville: The Beginning

Canadaville: The Beginning
By shirley m patterson

Not rated by the Author.
This is a story about a woman who overcame obstacles, pain, setbacks and found another new life and home in a small town under a different success.


Chapter 1

The rain had fallen on the now blown off roof for hours. The wind gust
about 130 were rough and shaky. We knew that this was going to be the
most terrifying experience we could endure. The year 2005 is marked as
one of the worst destructions that would plague us forever. On August
28, 2005 was the day New Orleans residents was urged to obey a
mandatory evacuation order. Before this, we were going to ride out
Katrina, then we wanted to leave. We remained in New Orleans not by
choice, but because we couldn't get out. Sherry and her 14-year-old
daughter Monica, sister Sophie, niece Rachel and her husband
Lawrence and their three small children. One only three months old
. The rest of my relatives had gone. I remembered when Katrina started
her treacherous journey as a category 1 hurricane as it crossed the
Florida panhandle killing everyone in its path. It began to gather strength
as it crossed the warm Gulf of Mexico. I thought New Orleans had
dodged the bullet. Tragedy unfold, the quick shift began when the tidal
surged into the city's industrial canal. But by midmorning the fear
started, when the Lake Pontchartrain soon began to pour in through
large breaches in the walls on 17th street and London avenue street
canal. The floodwaters pieced the eastern part of the city by the evening
of August 29, 2005, communications were down. As the night neared
the winds got stronger. The sky had grown darker, threatening rain and
the storm was about to occur, lightning cracked the sky, followed by a
burst of thunder. The rain began to fall, by 2 a.m. Katrina was about to
make landfall. It was a terrifying experience, one that left me shaken and
emotionally drained. When Katrina was passing through my apartment
was shaking as if the earth was turning in all directions. The
windowpanes was cracking and breaking, the rain hit the roof like gun
pellets, and then the roof had blown off. A large tree fell across the
porch. Soon after the rain began to drip in through the ceiling, everything
was getting wet, the walls began to peel and tear apart. We scrambled
for buckets to try to catch some of the rain, but it did no-good. My arms
extended like a rubber band and my black hair slicked straight down my
shoulders, seventies style straight. "Don't let the floor get too
soaked, I said, "please God don't let us drown".