While I was working in the kitchen making soup, my husband came in. I’m not sure what he came for because he never got to tell me. Instead, he was complaining about the small kitchen.

“There’s no room in here for two of us at the same time,” he said.

I was emphatic in my response.

“Just be happy we have a kitchen. I can no longer take that for granted,” I told him.

Yes, the kitchen is small. And yes, my house is small, much smaller than David is used to.

But if being hit with three hurricanes in two years taught me anything, it taught me not to take having a home for granted.

When I moved to Florida after my husband, Andy, died, I went shopping for a small, affordable home. It was a bit frightening that after retirement I would no longer have a regular paycheck. I needed to make sure I could afford the home I decided to buy.

I thought one attractive home with high ceilings was really nice, but higher ceilings meant higher air conditioning costs. Others told me that can be significant in Florida.

I tried to be aware of all potential taxes and monthly costs.

I tend to be very financially conservative, and what happened to a friend made me even more aware of needing to control costs.

She let a Realtor convince her she could afford the big, gorgeous home on the water. It came complete with its own dock and power boat.

When the economy crashed, my friend’s adjustable-rate mortgage soon became something she could no longer afford. Eventually, she lost the home.

When I saw the sweet little bungalow with a great view I knew it was perfect for my needs.

But life has a funny way of throwing unexpected curves. I never expected a later-in-life second marriage that changed so much about my new life with David.

The plan was that we each were going to sell our homes and buy a home together.

After months of searching, we found the perfect home. But the night before final settlement David decided he couldn’t do it. He was going to stay in his old house and I could keep my house.

I can’t tell you how many times I complained about that setup. I wanted to live in one home like normal people, I said. I didn’t like going back and forth to take care of two homes.

Now I know why they say we should be careful what we ask for.

Hurricane Ira destroyed my sweet little bungalow. It took almost two years and much of my savings to rebuild my house.

If my life were a television drama it wouldn’t quite sound believable.

The spacious four-bedroom home that David loved and vowed to live in forever is gone. Hurricanes Helene and Milton destroyed his home and everything in it. It was heartbreaking for him, and I think he’s still a bit shellshocked living in my cramped house.

I, on the other hand, am forever grateful that we have a home.

The word “home” has taken on a deeper meaning. I thank God every day that we have a home. It’s the most modest and least furnished home I’ve lived in, but it’s also the most appreciated. I know all too well what would happen if we didn’t have my little home.

As I watch television coverage of the devastation in northern North Carolina, my heart aches for those people.

More than four months after flooding from hurricanes swept away their homes, many people still don’t have a place to live.

People in their 70s and 80s are living outside in makeshift tents. The Federal Emergency Management Agency isn’t helping them. I can’t believe this is America. People who worked hard all their lives just to maintain their homes suddenly find themselves with no place to live.

I watched a television special when President Donald Trump went there to help.

One man told about pulling his wife up to the roof when their entire house filled water. He said that while they sat on the roof waiting five hours for rescue they saw many bodies floating by in the fierce current. Some were babies and small children, part of the 104 who died in their area.

How does one ever get that sight out of their mind?

How can officials watch that without trying to help?

During Trump’s visit he promised to help. I believe he will.

Some are already criticizing his rescue plan.

In America we can always count on some who will show up to help and some who will criticize whatever is done. I confess I don’t understand it.

I don’t understand why FEMA says it has no more trailers to give shelter to those who lost their homes.

One woman in one of the small travel trailers called to plead for help. She said it was 7 degrees in there.

Don’t talk to me about politics. Talk about what you are willing to do to help.

Meanwhile, when it’s cold in my bedroom and I pile on another cover I think about all those North Carolina hurricane victims still living in tents or RVs.

At the very least, if you have a warm bed and home, I hope you appreciate what you have.

Email Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcastnet