On the anniversary of Hurricane Sandy, it’s hard not to reflect back on the events that changed so many lives. I too, remember that night and those that followed. I thank God my children and I were fine – and that we were blessed with lessons learned through the ordeal.

Hurricane Sandy started with lots of wind – but no rain. At about 7:30pm we lost power and lights. Then water began racing down the street from both ends of the block. You do things you don’t think through in those situations – stupid things, futile things – like join neighbors outside moving cars closer to houses so they don’t get flooded. No one expected what was to come. Little did we know the water would cover most of the cars within an hour. But when I saw my children’s frightened faces watching from the window and heard them yelling for me to get in the house I realized the car, didn’t matter.

The high tide, full moon and storm surge acted together flooding the neighborhood at a frightening speed. The kids were scared and I was too – but I couldn’t tell them. So we all huddled in the living room. No one could sleep. Suddenly, there was a bang downstairs. I jumped up and ran downstairs as my children screamed. While descending the staircase, a very wet and very scared cat raced past me going up. Shining a lantern I saw about 6 inches of water on the ground floor. I guess Luigi didn’t expect to step out of his litter box into water and he knocked over a cooler in the darkness as he fled. I heard water rushing in from the street but had no idea where it was coming from. Feeling helpless, I knew the only thing I could control was the amount of wine I poured into my glass. So I climbed the stairs, reassured my children and tipped the bottle.

Standing at the front window I couldn’t believe my eyes. It had been a little over an hour since the water began racing down the block and now there was over 4 1/2 feet of water outside. The sky was pitch black, except for the light of the full moon and exploding transformers in the distance putting on a fireworks show. Cars floated and their lights performed an eerie flashdance as they flickered under the sea water.

Tuesday morning came fast. Wrapped in a blanket I trudged downstairs and my heart sank. There was water everywhere but what may have reached to a foot – was now only a few inches. Water seeped throughout the lower level of my house – ruining everything. I stopped feeling bad for myself when I heard that some neighbors had 3-4 feet of water in their houses. And those in the neighborhood with basements had over 10 feet of water – their basements flooded as well as their ground floors.

Slowly, people began tossing the waterlogged contents of their homes. Block after block was littered with people’s lives and memories as belongings were strewn on lawns and curbs waiting to be picked up as garbage. It looked like the whole neighborhood had been evicted. I toiled at pulling up waterlogged carpets and tossing my own belongings by the curb, telling myself it was a blessing in disguise that I was ‘forced’ to part with certain things. But it was heartbreaking. What shook me back to reality was when I heard about a woman in Staten Island who lost her two toddlers to a sweeping current. I hugged my children and put everything into perspective. We were the lucky ones. Who needs ‘things?’

Walking the streets I was greeted by a police / National Guard presence that I hadn’t seen since I volunteered in South Central LA to clean up after the riots. Nothing felt real. Trees effortlessly raised sidewalk cement several feet exposing their roots. Other trees smashed onto houses and cars. Then there were the trees nonchalantly laying across streets. Cars were sitting up on sidewalks – and up on each other. And boats once docked in nearby canals were now dry-docked on black-top in the middle of nearby boulevards.

For two weeks we had no heat or electricity. Most people were numb – and exhausted. A few days after the hurricane we had a Nor’easter. It seemed the joke was on us. My children and I began spending our days volunteering at a local disaster recovery center. The warmth and camaraderie of our fellow volunteers brightened each day. It was truly an enriching experience. I was, and remain, extremely proud having watched my then 9 and 10-year-old work in the center handing out and arranging donations for those in need. Sandy provided a life lesson for my children. One they’d never learn in school.

When ‘shipments’ arrived, everyone lined up with the military to pass along water, food, or whatever else was coming off the truck. The amount of individuals and stores who donated needed items was truly staggering and heartwarming. Local restaurants sent hot meals for the community. People spoke to neighbors they’d never met before. People took time to help others who they’d blindly rushed past on the street, just days prior. We heard it all at the recovery center. The distance between hearing of disasters on the evening news and experiencing one first-hand was stripped away. My children and I have been forever humbled and are grateful for the ability to be more empathetic towards others who face similar situations. We were blessed to see Sandy’s silver lining.

But evenings were long and cold. We’d get home from the disaster recovery center, I’d light candles throughout the house and heat water on the stove for warmth. Then I’d cook – usually pasta. The children and I would dine each night by candlelight and it seemed nothing could dampen their joy. They’d still call for dance parties during dinner and we’d all jump up and dance to the battery / crank radio. After dinner it was games and charades. The evenings held a certain quaintness we had never experienced before as a family. We were enjoying each other’s company without TV or video games. But after a while Little House on the Prairie got old and I yearned for modern conveniences.

At night my children and I would pile onto my queen size bed. I spent the dark hours clinging to the side of the mattress while they spread out comfortably, burrowed under mounds of blankets. Lying awake I’d hear the constant movement outside of tow trucks collecting all the neighborhood cars and garbage trucks taking growing piles of trash. One night at 3am I heard the sanitation truck on my block. I ran to the window to warn them of broken glass and nails in one of my bags. They just smiled and asked if I needed help carrying anything else out of the house. They were the unsung heroes.

It’s a year later now and my downstairs is still not finished. But there are others who still don’t have a home. On this the anniversary of Sandy, some are mourning loved ones. But I have my two children safely by my side. I realize I am blessed. And I am grateful to Sandy for the daily reminder to look for the silver lining. Unfortunately, I took many modern conveniences for granted – like turning on the heat and getting warmth. My morning coffee with cream. A hot shower. A warm meal.

But most importantly living through the experience has shown me the beauty of people helping people – a humanity not necessarily witnessed in our hectic daily lives. The experience has passed, the memories have not. The lessons, I hope will never fade.