Issue link: https://tmcpulse.uberflip.com/i/900421
t m c » p u l s e | o c t o b e r 2 0 1 7 19 19 "W hen I woke up Monday morning and found the Internet was out, I knew the end was near." That was the joke I told a group of neighborhood mothers who had come together on a recent Friday to cap off two weeks of cleaning out flooded homes. Around a table of happy-hour cocktails and bar food, we promised no tears, just lots of laughing. And laugh we did. Our house didn't seem to sustain any damage from Tropical Storm Harvey. In fact, we retained electricity, water and the Internet through the worst of it. That's why Monday, Aug. 28, turned out to be interesting—for my family and the other 299 families living in the Millwood neighborhood of the Riverstone master-planned community in Sugar Land. Mid-morning, we got word that there was a voluntary evacuation for our area and noticed water starting to pool in the streets. There were rumors going around that the floodgates in our neighborhood were closed, and pumps would be put to work to pull the water out. However, the water was rising pretty fast. Around 3 p.m., the voluntary evacu- ation became mandatory. My husband, Matt, and I packed up ourselves and our kids, and threw some snacks and drinks in the back of my car. In less than half an hour, we were backing out of the driveway ... into at least two feet of water. I had a Nissan Pathfinder (I say "had" because it was destroyed in the flood), but it was no match for that much water, so I turned the car around and we headed back to the house. Now that we were stuck inside, we took some time to move things from the floor of the food pantry and our closet floor to higher shelves and to rooms upstairs, where we planned to camp out. We emptied out a desk of "important" papers and pulled up rugs in the entryway and living room. Over the next five hours, Matt and I went downstairs every 15 minutes or so to see how fast the water was rising. First it was up to the curb, then the sidewalk, then the middle of the driveway, then past the tree in the yard, then to the first block of the path to the door, then to the second, then the third. When it finally got dark, the water had made it to the top of the bricked entryway that leads to the front door. We knew at this point that flooding was inevitable, so we turned off the electricity and went to bed. I checked the weather once more, and instead of the rain clearing up on Tuesday as expected, it was forecast to continue and, at times, be severe. I remember telling Matt, "It's just not going to stop! If it would stop for just two hours, the water would go down." When it's dark and quiet, it's interesting what you hear. It sounded like a swamp full of frogs had called a meeting outside our house. And when you go to bed earlier than usual, you have extra time to think, as well. What Matt and I thought was: We don't want to be stuck in this house. So we got up, called 911 and asked to be evacuated. We shoved some clothes and toiletries into two doubled-up garbage bags. Now it was a waiting game. We heard Missouri City Fire and EMS boats go by; they continued to make runs back and forth throughout the neighborhood, but didn't stop at our house. Matt sat at the foot of the stairs while the kids and I sat upstairs as water began to seep into our home. We listened to the boats come and go, our frustration growing. When Matt went outside to try to flag them down, he let in water and garden mulch. By now, our house had taken in two inches of water. (continued) Evacuation by Boat, Truck and Bus A TMC News writer chronicles her family's journey out of their Sugar Land home Facing: An overhead view of Harvey evacuees at the shelter set up at NRG Park. S T O R I E S