Life on the River

It has come to pass, that an era of my life is soon to be over. After many years of living in the house that I have always thought of as “home” it seems the flood of 2004 has taken its toll on my parents. No, this is not where I live in fact; I never lived in this particular house as I was growing up. The last house I lived in before I struck out on my own was actually across the road. But this was the place that my father had always dreamed of. A place where he could walk to his boat dock and run his lines every morning, more time for catfishing was what retirement was all about to my dad. They bought this house shortly after I moved out and he couldn’t wait to retire to live out the promise the place brought him. This retirement was ironically curtailed by the great flood of 1998. A flood that surpassed the 500 year flood mark, it was a flood that happened so quick that all in the house was lost, save the ceiling fans. They remained and they rebuilt. Then, about the time they had the place looking better than ever, along came the canyon lake flood of 2002. This time we had prior notice so we were able to get everything out of the house. The water only got about 6” above the floor and replacing carpets and cutting out the bottom two feet of sheet rock was sufficient to repair the damage to the house. Still, the cleaning after a flood is extensive and if you have never dealt with river silt, it’s a mud that clings to everything like glue.

This year, while most people were making plans for the Thanksgiving holiday, November 22 to be exact, the dream had become a night mare. The rain had been falling for days and the river started to rise. My dad called that night and told me they were leaving for a hotel. That night the water rose to two feet in the house. Furniture was soaked, as were the beds and several dozen children’s books that my mother has so lovingly collected. The damage was not near as great as it could have been, nor was anyone hurt in that area. But the loss is still heartbreaking none the less.
Mom and Dad are temporarily holed up in a hotel, and thanks to a great family and wonderful friends Thanksgiving Day was a happy and delicious break from slogging through and scooping up mud. Soon they will decide where they will go from here, but for the next couple of weeks it’s going to be day to day. Mom has already stated that she will not move back in again at least not to stay. I’m hoping they will at least keep the house for a weekend place.

This weekend on the Guadalupe River has been both physically and emotionally taxing, a stark contrast to the usual relaxing and happy time I have when I go there. Mixed feelings are surfacing; sorrow, anger, relief and thankfulness. Yes I’m thankful, thankful that I still have two loving parents at 36 to worry about (that’s ironic after what I put them through). Thankful that only property was lost. Thankful that most of the pictures (including one of my Grandmother (who has since left us) holding my baby daughter) were able to be saved. Thankful that I have a wonderful family I grew up in and wonderful friends that I have made, that offered to leave their own Thanksgiving to help.
Thanks to everyone who offered help, was able to come help and to those who will help them to carry out their plans for the future.

P.S. Its funny how a place can mean so much to someone. I guess its because it has so many happy memories attached to it. By the way Bandit, the greatest dog in the world is buried there.