Allen Quesada is a grateful man who's happy to be home again.
In the front yard is another home he's thankful he had. It's locked and unloaded and ready for departure — has been for five months. Now, if only the Federal Emergency Management Agency would come and get it.
"We're at the point, I don't know, it's kind of a joke now," says Quesada. "We just don't know what to think anymore, if somebody is going to come and get it or not."
More than an eyesore, the trailers might become dangerous projectiles in a bad storm, residents worry, and could damage restored houses. Or worse, injure families.
Their frustration is aimed at FEMA, which they say isn't delivering on a promise to take back more than 2,000 trailers — a number growing every day.
"We can't do anything," says Jaime Bergeron. "We can't do anything with the exterior of the house until they come and they move the trailer."
Now, after waiting three months, her trailer is finally gone.
FEMA has increased the number of removal teams, but offers a reminder.
"Our highest priority has always been to house people in the first place," says FEMA spokesman George Smith.
That's a point well taken by those who no longer need these trailers. What bothers them most, they say, is that so many people still do. Like Betty Winding, shuttling between her children while awaiting a handicap-accessible trailer. She is told one is on the way.
"I came over here by my daughter Lenore," says Winding. "I was living with Lenore, then I went back to Curtis, then Lenore, so I'm back and forth, you know."
"We signed a contract," says Deborahann Alexis. Sadly, she says, the house must be torn down so she can rebuild.
But first, FEMA needs to move the trailer out of the way.
"If everybody could get the attention needed, everybody could move on, but we're stuck," Alexis says.
Stuck in a moment of uncertainty. Whether out of a trailer, or wanting in.