After the storm.

Finally, it was over.

After a week of seeking shelter in my bathroom and enduring what felt like an eternity of feeling the house shake, rattle and roll due to unprecedented strong winds of a very rare combination tornado, typhoon and hurricane all rolled up in one devastating storm packing winds in excess of 500 miles per hour. I was amazed my house made it through in one piece. Is there anything duct tape can’t do?

I cautiously emerged from the bathroom and surveyed the interior of my house. So far, so good. Time to look around outside. As I walked through my kitchen I noticed something strange.

The sun was shining through the kitchen window, leaving a glowing beam across the floor.

Funny, the sun never shone through my kitchen window before. Unless it now rises in the north and sets in the south.

This thought kept my mind occupied as I took the remaining steps to the front door, and as soon as I opened it for a look around my neighborhood, my mouth dropped to the floor at the sight I saw.

The street that ran past my house was gone. So were the trees that stood in my front yard. Some of the houses in my neighborhood were gone but others seemed strangely out of place, standing in an uneven formation that would have required an extremely crooked street that zigzagged through the neighborhood. Then came the strangest sight of all.

In the distance was a vast body of water instead of the additional houses I was used to seeing. Were they all swept away by the storm? Was the storm surge that bad? And why did I keep getting that feeling I wasn’t anywhere near my hometown? The questions just kept on coming.

Then I thought of my family, especially my parents who lived farther north along the coast. I felt a surge of urgency to check on them, so I quickly ran for my house and found my phone.

However, when I dialed my parents’ phone number, my call was answered by someone else.

“I’m sorry, your current phone plan does not allow calls outside your designated calling zone.” said the voice.

“Excuse me, my phone plan allows for calls to all of South Florida. What do you mean I’m outside my calling zone?” I snapped.

“Just what I said, sir,” the voice replied. “Either move back to your calling zone or upgrade your plan.”

“Exactly where am I, anyway?” I asked.

“You don’t know? You’re in Cedar Key.”

“WHAT?”

It took a long time to digest the fact that the storm had pushed my house 247 miles north.

How to get it back to its original spot, I have no idea.