Ten years ago, Superstorm Sandy struck Normandy Beach on the New Jersey shore, wiping my entire life off the map. The storm took my home and all of my possessions. It even swept away the physical land. An inlet breached where my house once stood. I got out with my life and nothing else.
I was 38, and I lost every physical memory of my previous life: Mom’s notes of love and encouragement, the fishing rod Dad made for me. All of my fishing gear either burned up or was lost to high water. I had no Social Security card, passport or birth certificate to prove my identity. My Jeep sucked seawater into the transmission when I drove through the breach in Bay Head before authorities closed the bridges. The transmission seized a week later.
The next six months became a constant search for food, clothing and shelter, living in hotels, crashing at
