It was late night, that Friday when we returned back home. Rain had stopped fortunately and water didn't make it into the house, flooding only the street and retrieved in a few hours. Finally, at home, the silent night infused in us a relative sense of calm. For the first time in four days, the stars blinked above and the bright moon shone, dimly illuminating the now now entirely downed in darkness island of Puerto Rico.

Placing the hammocks in the front porch, we sat and chatted amusedly, talking on the latest events and making plans to ease our lives, for the days to come. We were few of the lucky ones, according to what we heard on the radio, through the only broadcasting station transmitting. We still had a solid roof over our heads, food and water.

That evening, I prepared hot chocolate and sliced cheese with crackers for the kids, while hubby lighted citronella candles and sprayed insect repellent on everyone. It would be a long night. As we listened on the radio, the rest of the island, especially the southeastern coast had been wrecked by the hurricane, leaving lots of people homeless and hopeless. Realizing that day, recovery efforts would take moths, maybe a year or so, considering the limitations of living in an island, it was a matter of living day by day. Of surviving.

It was on the next day that, due to the collapsed electrical system, we went out of water too, making house chores very hard to accomplish. Hand-washing clothes, keeping the house clean and disinfected, kitchen and baths mainly and also cooking and even taking a bath was true challenge. Staying home, as it was impossible to go to work, business shut to the absence of power and the little access to road, while schools closed, changed lifestyle as we knew it drastically. Communications collapse and so post service. We were stranded in our own island without knowing what had happened in truth out of town and getting in tough with our family and friends was virtually impossible. We had only ourselves to comfort each other. Hot cocoa, marshmallows and cheese soothed down stress level at nightfall and Off was the favorite perfume.

Having no internet and electricity discovered the kids on the neighborhood. The bicycle repairman in the corner suddenly boosted his business, fixing tires and replacing parts. Youngsters soon found out how to ride a bike, skateboard or tricycle once again. It was incredible, rejoicing, to watch them group to run up and down the street, talking and having fun. At sunset, they gathered at the basketball court across the street to play table games and chat. Hot chocolate grew in demand while roasting marshmallows in the bonfire we lighted for them gave the kids another perspective, a new and different one of life and friends.

We watched, feeling blessed amidst what everyone would refer as damnation, because we were alive, we had something to eat and our main concern, our children, were not suffering... at least not ours. And I prayed, and still pray every night for those who'd lost everything: home, food, family or life. Those who had to face the events alone. Those who saw their roof blowing off. Those whose a family member died in their arms, forced to be buried later in the backyard. Those whose relatives were carried away by the raging waters of a flooding river. Those who had nothing to eat or didn't have access to where to buy it. Those living in a remote area, in the mountains, where help would take weeks to arrive. Those who'd lost their lives.