an interesting phenomenon in my life these days seems to be the way in which i view time itself. instead of the age-old division of B.C. and A.D., of which i am accustomed, or "before my time" v. "in my lifetime" i have begun to think of time only in regard to pre-flood v. post-flood. a few examples:
the other day while getting ready to cautiously venture outside the house i was looking for a t-shirt that i wanted to wear, one that i was sure i had seen and worn since the flood. it is nowhere to be found. i spent a long time trying to pinpoint the last place i saw it or wore it and it's impossible to do since the dresser it should be in is new, the closet shelves, where most of my t-shirt are stacked, are new. it's as if my whole pre-flood life is non-existent.
will there ever be a time when i can just get dressed and not think of my clothes as post-flood? will i ever put on a t-shirt donated by a local church and not think of it as the "nazarene t-shirt" or use a broom that i don't call the "church of Christ broom" or use a clorox cleaning product without calling them the "baptist wipes?"
in my search for a book this week i ran across a john grisham that i had never heard of: the broker. i read all his books and couldn't believe i hadn't seen this one before. that is until i saw the date of publication which was late march, 2010; pre-flood. right around the time i got bronchitis, which became pneumonia, which led to my being fired, which came 2 whole days before the flood took what was left of my comfortable life. i wonder how much i've missed. those things that pre-flood would have been among the most important of my life: the newest book to read, the newest album to buy, the newest movie to look forward to...
while walking winston this morning i found myself in what i call the "watch out for sinkholes" mode. post-flood we have to be careful where we step, there are holes out there large enough to swallow the cat, the pug and even me. regardless of the amount of dirt, grass and mulch that has been replaced and the numerous times the sinkholes have been filled in they remain a constant reminder that this is my post-flood life and that the very ground itself is not the same as it once was. (and not as safe.)
the water that destroyed my neighborhood flowed freely through our homes and our streets for 5 days before the river crested and finally receded. in that time we were not allowed within a certain number of yards from the subdivision (not that i wanted to be anywhere near the place!) from sunday (the day of the flood) until friday when i had to face the aftermath, the only information i could get about the state of things was seeing my house under water on the news. at least 3 times i saw it on-air as canoes drifted by and reporters shot footage of the damage. the ground itself has not recovered, though they did, just this month, finally pave the streets and grant us relief from potholes too numerous to count.
the near-constant headache this week elicited advice to put ice wrapped in a cloth over my eyes. i remembered that i had a gel mask that is kept refrigerated for just that purpose. i got into the kitchen with my hand on the door of the fridge before i remembered that the mask was in the door of my pre-flood fridge not the post-flood fridge. it's gone. as i lay on the couch, a baggie of ice wrapped in an ikea dishtowel on my eyes, i pondered how, nearly 16 months after the flood, i can still be reminded daily of what is gone, but more importantly what is different. life is harder post-flood. life is full of little shocks and big losses. over and over again.
i am in awe of those trauma specialist who tell me that recovering from a trauma like this takes years and years because i don't see how one can survive the daily onslaught of grief and uncertainty for that long without going insane. though i suppose the purpose is to survive it, to not let it break you. i'm still here. surviving...barely, it seems.
grace and peace
