The only way I can describe it is that it was like a bomb had gone off.
The Puerto Rico where I grew up was an island of beauty. Clear, blue water, golden sand, always green. But when our flight touched down in San Juan this past Tuesday, I hardly recognized my home. The sand was gone. The trees flattened. The water an ugly brownish-green.
As Puerto Ricans, we grow up with hurricanes. Our houses are made of concrete, even the roofs. When a storm comes, we stock up on food and water, then board up the windows and hunker down.