The Aftermath

In early autumn of 2018, my world was shaken to its foundations. Hurricane Michael destroyed the heart of the Florida Panhandle and wreaked havoc across a major portion of the Southeastern United States. The storm grew so fast, we didn't even have time to evacuate. Instead, my partner and I were sheltering in place with my family when the stormwall struck. For over an hour the winds raged, trying their best to tear the roof from my grandparents' home. We watched as trees were felled, signs were ripped from the ground and thrown down the road, and torrents of rain flooded the surrounding area. During the peak of the storm, we heard the ceiling groan and shudder as it nearly came apart above us. It was the single-most intense and terrifying moment of my entire life.

Miraculously, we survived unscathed. There was damage to the property and some parts of the house, trees scattered across the main road, and someone's shed roof ended up in our backyard. My father and I set to work helping to clear the trees across the road to make a path for the emergency responders because a lot of people weren't as lucky as us. We stayed for three days, helping where we could, but my grandmother was too elderly to keep in emergency mode while we all waited for outside help to come. Instead, we gathered her and our belongings up and left. We drove further south to stay with family in the St. Cloud area, where they had received only rain from the hurricane.

On the fourth day, my partner and I were so thoroughly drawn out that we wanted to take a small break from the stress. We went to a local park to just walk around and enjoy the sunlight and warm breeze, trying to forget the terrors of the last week. The day was beyond gorgeous; blue skies and puffy white clouds as far as the eye could see, the sun shimmering on the waters of Lake Tohopekaliga, and the dozens of insects buzzing in the early autumn heat that is typical of Florida. My partner and I were walking along the shore path, laughing and teasing for what felt like the first time in days, when I spotted the serpentine neck of a water bird perched on the nearby pier.

I walked closer, curious to see if it was a cormorant or another species. The bird's head swiveled back and forth, watching me as I casually approached. It didn't seem to mind my presence, so I immediately grabbed my phone to snap a few shots. It was beautiful, dark, and elegant. Its beak seemed too long to be a cormorant, and I knew it wasn't a heron. It wasn't until after it had flown away that I searched for an answer. This sleek, sinuous creature was an anhinga, a bird native to warm, tropical areas. I had never seen one before and I was beyond excited to have captured a photo of it.

While I was taking the photos, it began to stretch its wings and brace itself for take off. The sun shone brightly on its black feathers, gilding it in an ethereal light. In that moment, I held my breath and took one more photo. Then it took off, flying across the waters of the lake and off into the distance. Afterwards, I checked my phone and gasped. The final shot was easily one of the most breathtaking photos I had ever captured. The anhinga, poised for flight and staring towards the horizon, moved me. I cried, overwhelmed at the feelings it brought me.

In the aftermath of the most devastating event of my life, there was still something beautiful to look forward to. This anhinga inspired me to never stop seeing the hidden joys in the world, and to always keep soaring towards the next adventure. Whenever I feel the weight of stress and life on my shoulders, just glancing at this photo is enough to lift my spirits. I hope this photo brings you as much joy and happiness as it has brought me.