Saturday, August 22, I went to the grocery store around noon to pick up a few things for the next couple of days. As soon as I walked through the door, I noticed that the store seemed to be unusually busy. I couldn't even find a shopping cart.

I asked the manager if the store was always like that on Saturdays or if this had anything to do with the tropical storm that had briefly been mentioned on the news the night before. Such lines had not been uncommon when anxious meteorologists cried wolf in the past.

But I figured the crowd had little to do with hurricane paranoia (it would probably change its path, right?), and I made only a limited purchase of lettuce, cookies and soda--passing over the canned goods, bottled water and batteries I should have bought.

The rest of the afternoon passed lazily, without another thought about a storm. But as the nightly news began, I saw that the due west course Andrew was pursuing hadn't changed and that the storm warning had been upgraded to a storm watch. Andrew was headed straight for South Florida.

Straight for my home.

The local news broadcasts bombarded residents with information from the National Hurricane Center. Details about everything, including how to secure your home and boat, what to stock up on and where evacuation shelters were located, began to be sent out to the public.

By 11 p.m., Andrew's increasing winds earned him an upgrade to category two (out of a possible five). Winds raged up to 110 miles per hour. Evacuation had already begun in some areas.

And tension began to rise as Floridians learned that the Bahamas were destined to be hit less than 24 hours; South Florida, in less than 36.

The next day was a frenzy of preparation and evacuation. Andrew's winds continued to strengthen to about 130 miles per hour, making it a force three hurricane, and the evacuation zones expanded further west to include my home. All the supplies that I should have gathered the previous day had to be fought for today.

My family and I battled store lines, brought the patio furniture indoors, placed the potted plants from the greenhouse in the garage and drained a foot of water from the pool. All of the hurricane shutters were lowered and secured. Finally, we drove four nails into the outside door to keep it from blowing in.

I evacuated to a friend's house, but my parents decided to stay. We saw Andrew close in on the Bahamas in the early evening. We watched the news until midnight and then decided to try to get some rest before the storm set in.

By 3 a.m., we were awake, and Andrew was a force four hurricane with sustained winds of 145 miles per hour.

But all we saw was a radar image of the storm. At first it was even difficult to be frightened. I had never been through a hurricane before, and I had no idea what was about to happen. We watched with a sense of imminent doom as Andrew blasted toward Miami at a clip of 17 miles per hour.

Miami and most of Dade County lost power at 4 a.m. Monday morning. From that point on, I called my parents every 10 minutes until the phones went dead.

We clutched our flashlights for comfort and turned on a battery operated radio to listen to the simulcast of the television news. We listened to the winds that sounded like a freight train approaching--as ceramic barrel tiles blew off the roof, trees cracked and crashed and debris flew everywhere.

When the noise became unbearable to our already stressed psyches, we moved into the safety of the hallway. We stayed there from about 5 to 6 a.m., until we fell asleep. When the road died down, I was relieved that the beast was gone and the worst seemed to be over. I moved back to bed and slept, physically exhausted and emotionally drained.

At 11 a.m., I went outside for the first time to the grey, wet and devastating day. I was in shock at the destruction that had occurred: Trees were uprooted and scattered as if they were leaves blown about by an autumn gust of wind. Power lines and traffic lights were down everywhere, or hanging very low. Nothing would ever be the same.

I tried to phone my parents, but the phone lines were still out. I decided to drive home to see what had happened to my parents and to our house.

Miami's thoroughfares were transformed into a series of complex obstacle courses. Often the only way to get through was to drive on the wrong side of the road, or through someone's front yard. Familiar streets were virtually unrecognizable without any of their trees or signs.

Fortunately, my parents were fine and our house escaped with minor damage, although we were without power for 12 days. Relief and clean-up efforts have dominated everyone's lives ever since.

The first week post-Andrew was chaotic as government agencies tried to coordinate with each other. Price gouging was rampant--$5 for a small bag of ice, for example. The national guard moved in to enforce a strict curfew and protect residences and businesses from looting. Spray-painted messages on homes such as "you loot, we'll shoot" were common, as were insurance company names and telephone numbers.

But amid all this, the community has been brought together by the tragedy, and we have all learned to be better neighbors. Volunteerism is at the heart of the relief effort.

Volunteers are directing traffic. Singer Gloria Estefan hosted a benefit concert. Victims of hurricane Hugo, which hit South Carolina in 1989, were among the first to bring supplies. The Red Cross and the army have built tent cities to provide shelter and food for all those left homeless. Everyone is pitching in. Everyone is trying to survive.

Mary E. Rocha '95 has lived in Miami since 1984.