November 5, 2012
On Saturday afternoon, I drove to Staten Island not knowing whether my house still stood.
So far the only report I’d had came from my friend Anya, who hadn't seen my house but said that poles and trees were lying around my street.
I felt guilty about not going there earlier, but there was the question of transportation, then the question of a car, finding gas for the car, and finding somebody to drive me. I felt guilty for neglecting my house during the hurricane, even though I had abandoned it two months prior to that. My mother died, my son left for college, and since there was nothing tying me to Staten Island anymore, and many things tying me to Manhattan, I had to move. The house stood empty and ransacked, waiting to be put on the market.
Read entire article on The New Republic