I was listening to the Young House Love podcast on my drive to work last week. It just so happened that one of their listener questions was from a woman seeking remodeling advice after her home flooded during Hurricane Harvey (I am about a year behind on their podcast). Yep, it is anniversary of the weekend our home flooded and different websites and networks have been mentioning it all week. Status updates and photos have already begun to pop up in my Facebook memories. I am not sad. We are lucky to be back at home after so many of our friends and loved ones helped us. A year later, we are totally fine.
Okay, obviously we are doing well, but dang, I didn’t realize how much emotion was going to seep out of my eyeballs after hearing this woman’s experience, which was very similar to my own. (Here is my Harvey post from last year) While listening to the hosts read her question, I started having flashbacks of sitting in our cramped loft with our dearest belongings, watching the water rise in our home…wading downstairs every hour or so to raise items higher in Lila’s bedroom, and finally carrying Lila above the thigh deep murkiness over to a dry neighbor’s house. I remember there wasn’t time to cry because we were just too anxious looking for updates, taking care of the family, and watching the water levels.
Usually when Harvey comes up and I mention that our home flooded, it’s a passing comment. Like, oh ya, our toilet got stopped up once, too. Just a normal event. I’m usually on the “enough about Harvey” train until one of these moments where I realize that maybe I will always be a little afraid. It’s been a year and people are still dealing, building, and healing.
My first real flashback actually occurred when we were off-roading in Oklahoma. Our jeep got stuck in a shallow-ish river and was leaning to the right. I was on that side, and so was Lila. My window was rolled down because I had been trying to take photographs, and as soon as I saw the reflection of water on the ceiling of the jeep I started repeating “oh my gosh” over and over. Daniel and his mom told me we were fine, which we were, but Lila being on the leaning side of the jeep, combined with the clear memory of Lila’s bedroom ceiling reflecting the 20 inches of water that was covering her belongings, was enough to make me flip out. (After thirty minutes of multiple attempts to get the jeep out, Daniel’s family finally succeeded, FYI.)
I don’t usually get emotional about the flood anymore, and our home is probably about 90% done – just need to clean/organize a couple areas that are filled with boxes and bags we are still sorting. Once I update the Thank You cards I will be sure to mail those out. Oops. :-O