Read Part I of the story here.
Saturday afternoon, much of our neighborhood gathered together to talk about what we had seen. We compared notes on whose roof was leaking, whose house had sustained major damage, whose generator was working. As the day grew darker, we moved everyone indoors and gathered around the flashlights.
When Shabbat ended, my husband and I loaded the kids into the car to drive the two streets to our home. Unfortunately, we were so preoccupied that we didn't prepare them for what they would see. Thus, as we pulled up in front of our house and the kids took in the gutters and the broken fence, our 9-year-old burst into tears. "Our house is broken," she choked out.
Our 4-year-old son, who is significantly developmentally delayed, merely pointed and said, "Oh, no!"
It was pitch black in the house, and we hurried to light candles and get flashlights. The kids set up sleeping bags in our room, and my husband and I used our cellphones to try to make calls and get information from the Internet. Reception was terrible; texting was all we could do -- and often, even the texts wouldn't go out. Eventually, we settled in for an uncomfortable night's sleep.
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