The last thing I remember from before was the sound. Every window
in every house was starting to talk. You could hear the water
before you saw it. My uncle said it sounded like a train and I
didn't believe him. I believed him at nine at night.
We took the truck as far as Bay and Marine and then we walked. The
water was at my waist and it was pushing hard. On Snug Harbor a
couple were on their roof. We got them off with a Zodiac my
brother-in-law had in his backyard for fishing. I forgot he had
that boat for two weeks. That is how long the night was.
The mornings after are what people don't tell you. Every ceiling
had a line on it. Every kitchen. The line was the same height on
every wall in every house and it was almost peaceful, like a level.