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Having made it to the other side

Arriving home, after a full day and a long week, to find my bedroom had been flooded was a nasty shock.  It took a little while to set in, and then a longer while to shift.  My bedroom is (ordinarily) something of a sanctuary.  A home within my home.  A nest.  A place to rest, relax, and re-calibrate   Seeing the water pouring in, through the ceiling, was another very unpleasant reminder of my powerlessness.  There was nothing, in that moment, that I could physically do to remedy the situation.  It was what it was, and I had to simply watch the water come through for the next three and a half hours.  Splashing, then splishing, then dropping, then dripping.  Water always finds a course.  This course was vertical - down onto my bed, my carpet, and everything around.  

It could indeed have been a whole lot worse.  Now, I can value the philosophical input I have received over the weekend.  It was not entirely welcome, to begin with.  A break-in would have been worse.  And fire worse still.  Life and limb remain intact.  Getting the electricity back on was something of a turning point; even without lights in my room, I could at least survey the damage, and mitigate some more by swiftly transporting belongings and keepsakes to the safety of the sitting room.

Squelch is both a sound and a sensation I have come to know well in recent days.  My room now stands empty.  My mattress acted as a large sponge, absorbing so much moisture it proved difficult to shift and left a river marking its path as it was tugged away from the disaster zone.  Carpets and underlay have since been stripped back to reveal the boards beneath.  I now boast a loft-style room and hallway.  Unforeseen re-modelling.     

Silver linings are, I believe, on their way.  In the meantime  catastrophising will get me nowhere.  Life happens.  To all of us, whether we're ready for it or not.  I am again reminded that recovery is always possible - but there is work to be done...

I have had an opportunity to refamiliarise myself with my possessions.  Their volume and variety.  The treasures.  And the tat.  In the face of a disaster such as this, perspective shifts and values are challenged.  What do these bits and pieces mean?  Why have I held on to them?  Shall I continue to carry them with me?  

Friday's flood has confirmed something I knew, but had perhaps forgotten - nature is a force to be reckoned with that should never be underestimated.  The elements, and water particularly, can be our friends but at times can threaten all that we hold to be dear and important.  There was however some faint amusement to be derived from spotting my training fins in the midst of the wet-ness.       
   









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