Light Grey

I don't know what this post will look like by the final sentence, but I am writing it anyway. On Thursday, June 20, 2013, many of us were evacuated from our homes and workplaces. I had just dropped my daughter off at her end-of-season soccer party, and was about to stop for groceries, when I heard that Sunnyside was being evacuated. Within an hour, I was in my kitchen with three dogs, one whom had been neutered earlier that day, my eleven-year-old daughter, my one-year-old son, my husband, my mother, and my brother. 

There was no calm before the storm in my kitchen. My brother was pacing and needed a cigarette, my mom was making outrageous plans that we were all contesting, my husband was mumbling in Spanish, my daughter was panicked, my son was laughing at the madness, and Kyuubi the dog was attempting to lick his absentee package. 

In total disbelief that we would actually flood, I said, "I can't figure this out. I'm not leaving." 

"Jenny!" my mom yelled, "We have to leave. It's a mandatory evacuation." 

"Fine, you go and we'll catch up with you later. I can't do this. Kyuubi just had surgery, and I don't even know what to bring for Leo." 

"Mama, are we going to die?" my daughter cried. 

"Oh my god, no, we are not going to die." I screamed. "Calm down!"

Two hours later we were walking out of Sunnyside, car seat on stroller, dog with incision hobbling along, police on megaphone, line of cars.

Then texting Rousseau. Jennefer Rousseau. Online English instructor Rousseau. 

And so it was that we ended up in the basement of Jennefer's house. I don't know where we would have ended up without her and I am so grateful that she not only took us in, but also made us feel at home. She should set up a bed and breakfast with the way she cooks! And the kindness and concern did not end there. I was in constant contact with my team and with others from CEFL, through email, phone calls, texts, and in-person. Thank you so much to all of them. I am one lucky girl.

___________

The water that swelled and spilled into our streets, our homes, and our workplaces, has left its mark. We have thrown away chairs, photos, and documents. We have ripped out tiles, shelving, and drywall. After mopping, and bleaching, and spraying, and mopping more, our basements are still streaked with the light grey of mud. Most of the evidence that the flood ever happened, is disappearing and more quickly than I thought it would. We are all moving on, moving forward. There was a parade this morning and we are resilient. It's true, we are. But, things look different now. Our thoughts and feelings have been flooded too and I don't know how to respond to this new way of seeing. We are still streaked light grey and that's okay.

Washed up near my house.

My grandpa's briefcase.

My grandpa's documents and letters.

People's belongings in the streets of Calgary.

Maureen and I in the mud.

If anyone still needs help with clean-up or childcare or anything else, please let me know. I will lend a hand where I can. Thank you SO much to all my friends, family, and colleagues, who have gone over and above. You guys are amazing.