Lost in the Flood
I know a guy from work who schedules meetings or ends visits by saying: "If the creek doesn't rise I'll see you later."
Well, as made abundantly clear to me this year, the creek does rise - both literally and figuratively. This year the waters seem to be over the bridge and sloshing on the deck of the ship that was once thought to be unsinkable.
On Sunday night the storms raged again - big loud thunderclaps that had my dogs shaking and looking for cover. "Woke last night to the sounds of thunder." I didn't have to "how far off, I sat and wonder," because they seemed like they were striking the pieces of the torn down swing set that have not yet been discarded.
"What're we going to do about this?" Melky and Shadow's eyes seemed to ask as they tried to jump into the bed.
"Nothing we can do, guys," I said. "We need to ride the storm out and assess the damage later."
I had a fleeting thought about the basement flooding - it had been something that used to keep me up at night. I really didn't care on Sunday - if it flooded, we'd clean it up and go on.
Another loud boomer struck something big. I thought of a college buddy who'd been afraid of storms and then just headed out into the middle of one to face his fears. He came back soaked and shaking and said, "There, I conquered that fear."
On Monday the devastation from the storms was all over the evening news. Houses and boats were floating away on the creeks that rose to record heights.
"There can't be anything worse than losing everything you own to a flash flood," the news anchor said.
"I beg to differ with you," I mumbled to the screen.
Yet belongings floating away. People in tears. Rescue helicopters in the air. I thought of Katrina and the devastation it brought with it.
I thought of my buddy from work.
If the creek don't rise.
Rise it will.
Rise above it.
Well, as made abundantly clear to me this year, the creek does rise - both literally and figuratively. This year the waters seem to be over the bridge and sloshing on the deck of the ship that was once thought to be unsinkable.
On Sunday night the storms raged again - big loud thunderclaps that had my dogs shaking and looking for cover. "Woke last night to the sounds of thunder." I didn't have to "how far off, I sat and wonder," because they seemed like they were striking the pieces of the torn down swing set that have not yet been discarded.
"What're we going to do about this?" Melky and Shadow's eyes seemed to ask as they tried to jump into the bed.
"Nothing we can do, guys," I said. "We need to ride the storm out and assess the damage later."
I had a fleeting thought about the basement flooding - it had been something that used to keep me up at night. I really didn't care on Sunday - if it flooded, we'd clean it up and go on.
Another loud boomer struck something big. I thought of a college buddy who'd been afraid of storms and then just headed out into the middle of one to face his fears. He came back soaked and shaking and said, "There, I conquered that fear."
On Monday the devastation from the storms was all over the evening news. Houses and boats were floating away on the creeks that rose to record heights.
"There can't be anything worse than losing everything you own to a flash flood," the news anchor said.
"I beg to differ with you," I mumbled to the screen.
Yet belongings floating away. People in tears. Rescue helicopters in the air. I thought of Katrina and the devastation it brought with it.
I thought of my buddy from work.
If the creek don't rise.
Rise it will.
Rise above it.
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