One year ago this week, we stood inside our flooded living room, surrounded by two feet of water and disbelief. The house was silent except for the sound of rain and the slosh of water against furniture. There wasn’t a strong current inside, but outside, you could feel it — that quiet pull of the storm as we made our way upstairs to safety.
At the time, we couldn’t see past the next few hours. We didn’t know where to start, what to save, or where we’d even sleep.
(picture from a helicopter of the streets in our neighborhood)
From Remodel Plans to a Full Rebuild
Before Helene, we were just weeks away from starting a remodel. The plans were drawn, the builder lined up, and city permits were only about two weeks from being approved. We were ready to refresh our home — the one we’d lived in for fifteen years.
After the storm, that timeline became one of the few things we were grateful for. If construction had already started, all that work and money would’ve been lost. Instead, we found ourselves with the rare opportunity to start fresh, even if we didn’t know it yet.
The next morning, as we pushed water out of our home and looked at the belongings that hadn’t made it, we made a decision: we wouldn’t renovate. We would rebuild and elevate. We’d design a home that could withstand what Helene had brought, and what might come again.
We already had old new-build plans from years earlier, so we called our architect, dusted them off, and began pivoting our builder from remodel to rebuild. At the time, we thought we were ahead of the game. But as we would soon learn, nothing about rebuilding after a hurricane moves quickly.
(our home- where we brought our daughter home for the 1st time )
(prior new build front elevation plans)
The Day After the Storm
The day after Helene, we moved upstairs into our in-law suite — about 1,200 square feet that quickly became home for the next several months. It was safe and comfortable enough, but it came with challenges: one bedroom with two beds, no kitchen, and two Portuguese Water Dogs who believe they’re human.
The small bar sink upstairs was barely big enough to rinse a coffee mug, let alone wash a pan. I had visions of whipping up meals with a crockpot and toaster oven, but with no counter space for prep and no full-sized sink to clean up, cooking quickly became more stress than it was worth.
So, we ate out — not because we couldn’t cook, but because we needed to keep life moving. Between full-time jobs, school drop-offs, and lacrosse practices, eating out became our way to maintain a little comfort and normalcy while everything else was upside down.
(Photos from the upstairs in-law suite where we lived from Sept 2024- June 2025)
Finding the Fifth Wheel
About a month later, we started searching for an RV. With so many homes in our neighborhood flooded, the rental market had exploded. The few available houses were going for $5,000 a month or more for barely 1,200 square feet — and that just didn’t make sense for us.
Staying close to home was important, especially for our daughter. She wanted to stay in her same neighborhood, near friends and school. And honestly, we did too. So, instead of paying inflated rent, we made a different kind of investment — one that would let us stay put.
We eventually found our home-on-wheels: a Forest River Cedar Creek 380. It checked every box — two bedrooms, a one-and-a-half bath layout, and a real kitchen. It even has a mudroom, which makes a surprising difference when you live with two water-loving dogs.
I’ll admit, there were moments I questioned the choice. Would it be too cramped? Was I putting my family through unnecessary stress? But as it turns out, it’s been one of the best decisions we made.
What We Love
• 2 Bedroom with split floor plan with space and privacy for everyone
• Kitchen island with a full-sized refrigerator
• Double sinks and a real shower in the master bath
• Plenty of storage and light throughout
What We’d Change
• A little more counter space for cooking
• A larger dining table (but it works)
• More closet space (apparently two dogs = two wardrobes)
The RV has become our “driveway dwelling” — a surprisingly comfortable, functional home that lets us keep working, schooling, and living right where we belong.
It’s not the life we planned, but it’s one that works. And for the first time since the storm, we’ve found our rhythm again.
(Picture of Reeses our youngest porty on the step into the master bedroom of the RV)
Two weeks ago marks one year since Helene changed everything. In Part 2, I’ll share how we finally made it to demo day — the moment we’ve been waiting for.
Two Dogs and a Demo 