It was mid morning on July 18th when we first noticed. My sweety was at the nose of the Uhaul grabbing boxes and bringing them to the ramp for me to carry into the storage unit. When we work together, it is like a well oiled machine. Every step and move is in time with each other. The best team work I have ever taken part in. It was when my sweety said "don't come up in here, and don't get any more boxes" that I was thankful for the break. I had no idea what he was talking about, but my arms were already screaming for some R & R, and I thought my legs were going to buckle. Paul walked out of the cargo area, down the ramp and into the cab of the uhaul. When he walked pasted me and back into the cargo area, I noticed the camera in his hand.
"Babe, what are you doing?" I asked tiredly
"The boxes in Moms Attic are soaked. We are going to photograph them while they are still up there, and see what, if anything, has been damaged." He replied calmly
The gasping sound, or what ever sound escaped my mouth, must have been loud. I am almost sure my jaw hit the pavement, and my hand flew to my face in the attempts to trap the scream that was swelling in side of me. "The pictures of the grand babies are up there. The ones of James military Graduation. My uncle Carlos pictures. What if they are soaked? I could never replace those."
"I know baby" my sweety said gently "lets not get all upset and worked up until we know if the water damaged anything. Alright?"
Paul is always so calm, cool, and collected during times like these. I was ready to dial the CEO and President of the rental company, while my sweety carefully moved each box and took pictures of the damage.
As the camera 'snapped' away, I watched and prayed that the photos were not damaged.
The more boxes he moved, all hope inside of me seemed to escape. Washed away by the storms on our trip from Texas to Florida. Lost forever in the back of a rented Uhaul truck. Gone...