Earlier today, I shared a photo on my Facebook page that stirred memories from a time of profound loss and renewal. It brought me back to a moment when our home and hearts were both tested in the aftermath of Hurricane Opal. As I reflect on the bond I shared with our dog, Comare, and the refuge we found in the Mary Turner Rule Cottage, I’m reminded of the strength we derive from the places and beings that give us comfort. This reflection, now shared on my website, weaves together those memories and the deeper connections they reveal—especially as so many are facing similar challenges in the wake of Hurricane Helene.
This photo surfaced this morning, pulling memories from the deepest corners of my mind. It’s always best to start at the beginning.
The traditions in Sicilian homes run deep, especially the roles of comare and compare, our godparents. They were chosen family, not by blood, but by something stronger: trust and loyalty. They stood elevated, more than just friends, and in our case, usually not relatives.
My mother had a small circle of comares—women she kept close to her heart. They were like sisters, bound by shared experiences, weathering the best and worst life had to offer. As a child, I watched them together, fascinated by the way they communicated—secrets and stories flowing between them like water. Their laughter filled the room, blending in infectious harmony. I didn’t fully understand it then, but I knew it was sacred.
I never had comares or compares of my own, no children to assign them to. But when Mike and I adopted our first fur baby, it was clear what her name would be: Comare. With her, I finally had my comare, my own best friend. When people asked about her name, I would smile and explain, "Comare is my best girlfriend." And she was.
Looking at this photo of her standing proudly on the front porch of the Mary Turner Rule Cottage, I realize just how much that place—and she—represented to us. After Hurricane Opal took everything, the cottage became a source of comfort and protection, nurturing us back to life.
In many ways, the cottage and Comare were the same—both offered us a sense of home. The cottage sheltered us when we needed it most, and Comare gave us the unconditional love that only a best friend could. They were constants through the highs and lows, offering security and companionship beyond the physical.
As I sit here with this photo, I can’t help but think of those facing the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. So many have lost the very things we take for granted—homes, pets, and the comfort of safety. The storm has left behind devastation, but also resilience, with people rising to help one another, strangers becoming family.
Just like after Opal, the road to recovery is long, and the pain of loss is raw. But there is hope in seeing communities come together, much like the circle of comares my mother cherished. We may not be bound by blood, but we are bound by something even stronger—our capacity to love and to rebuild, side by side.
Today, I’m reminded of the stories that shape us, the homes that shelter us, and the friends, both human and fur, that carry us through the storm. For those suffering today, know that like the cottage and Comare, refuge and love are waiting for you too. You are not alone.
Let’s turn compassion into action. Whether through donations, volunteering, or offering a helping hand, we can bring comfort to someone in need. Don’t just tell people—they need to see through your actions that no one is ever truly alone.