I used to get excited when I saw that a hurricane was coming. To me, it meant time off of school to watch a cool storm, hang out with the family, and pretend like we are on an indoor camping trip for a day. After Rita, this all changed. She was suppose to hit during the night, but we were in Lafayette and just expected some wind and a bit of rain. Not a big deal at all. As a young girl, for some reason I decided to sleep with my mom that night. Around 2am, we both awoke to the loundest noise I have ever heard and instantly my mother pushed me to the floor and layed on top of me, protecting me from whatever was happening, and whatever was going to happen. After the house stopped shaking and the all was silent, we stood up. Our hearts were pounding, but not a single tear was shed. We didn\'t even know where to begin; we had no idea what had just happened. My room was directly across from my mother\'s room, and as soon as we got to the doorway of my room, then the tears began. We had a huge pecan tree in our backyard, or should I say used to be in our back yard. It was now in my bedroom, on top of my bed. All my posters from my wall were broken and on the floor, cracks ran down the entire length of my walls, my bed was demolished. If I hadn\'t slept with my mother that night, I would have been in that bed. Needless to say, I don\'t get excited when I see a hurricane is coming anymore.