Sunday, August 27, 2017

Diary of a Flooded Town

If you've seen or read any news, you know about Harvey. You know about the serious damage and danger that sudden sonofabitch brought here to the Texas coastline. 

We were lucky, we missed a direct hit here in Houston. I can't imagine what the folks who were in the path felt. But right now we're getting the dirty rain bands one after another after another. There are houses on no existing floodplain and on high ground in which water nears their door, our's included. 

This is not the first time I have seen high flooding. 

This is the first time in my life I have seen flash flooding. 

The water moved through our neighborhood like rapids, with white crests every few seconds and rain that drove sideways. It created a cloud of mist, the mailbox now barely visible. We've hours to go in a long night of this. And possibly days before the rain stops altogether. 

This morning was so quiet, that this just seemed a sudden nightmare. 

The local wildlife doesn't appreciate this bullshit either.

On the news, it flashes in red text lines that our body count here is already at least one. Just due to the water. The fast, deep, unwelcome water here in our hometown that refuses to leave. 

We have food and water. But for a week would be stretching it. It would be peanut butter for breakfast and walnuts and tomatoes for dinner stretching it. I worry about the kids. I worry about my husband. I try not to let them know I'm worried about them. 

Stepping on wet chalk to ease the boredom.

My husband, a first responder, returns to work tomorrow and might not leave again until the threat is over. I'm not sure our vehicles will work. We can't hide them from the water, either. 

I can't tell you what is running through my head now, with having suffered fainting even in the last few weeks with PH, but I have hanging up our evacuation bag, and a large walking stick waiting for us in the garage. Because there is a chance we'll be fleeing this flood, alone, in the future.

I can pretend my wrist bp monitor is a PIP BOY 3000, right? 

And like so many other times in my life, I HAVE to believe I can handle it. 

I have to. 

There's a constant stream of texts and emails in the constant streams of rain, we're all trying to watch out for each other, separated by miles or more.  We're all awake. We're all listening for the next alert, or worse yet, the siren. 

But, right now, we have power. If we keep it through the morning, it may be our's through the storms. I don't know how likely it is, but I have to be hopeful. 

I have to. 

I'd optimistically packed away my writing things, to know where my little word processor was. I had this passing fancy that a storm would be a good thing to write in. But in life, we end up against times that take so much from us that dreaming and living in the writing world is physically and mentally impossible. I went through one of those, a long one, after the loss of my last baby and the worry over my new one. Sometimes life takes too much. Steals it from you even when you have dangerously nothing. 

Writer's Block is not much of a thing for me personally. If I have the headspace, that world belongs to me. Writer's overwhelm is so much of a thing that I'm surprised we don't have a proper name for it. 

Stay safe, and if you are safe, spare thoughts and prayers for everyone affected by this behemoth hurricane turned- everlasting-bastard in Texas. 

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