The House That My Father Built
A few years ago, I stayed up all night and watched a man stand outside of a closed high school. He hadn’t slept for at least 24 hours and was subjecting himself to heavy rains and winds blowing at over 120 miles per hour. I was sharing this night with him, me parked safely in my bed over 1,500 miles away, because I was terrified that Hurricane Rita was going to flatten my childhood home, the home built by my father…