Diane Jardel

The Flood

I waded around my house panicking in the rapidly rising water that was pouring in from the flooding river.   It had happened much sooner than predicted.   My teeth were chattering with cold and I could not get my mind to think logically.   What could I save? The local radio had sent out an emergency message.

“The rescue service in your area will pick you up in a dingy.   You can only take two small items with you.   Wait on the top floor of your house where you can be seen clearly.”

Obviously I had already rushed to the desk and put my passport in my coat pocket and my husband Jacques had fished out the file with all our birth certificates and legal documents.

But what about Samantha’s paintings, Jacques fathers paintings, photos of my parents, my CD collection; our first photo album from the time we first met to the birth of our first baby.   But there were so many photo albums.   Which was the most important to save?

Attachments to material possessions are only a burden I reminded myself; but I wanted to preserve the memories of my dead parents for my grand children to see and photos of my children as babies and their graduations; to conserve the memory of our family through generations to come.

Sniffing, shivering, soaked to the skin and sobbing I grabbed a few albums from the dresser, and shuffled through them messing them up in my shaking hands, my emotions guiding my movements, any logical thoughts frozen by fear.   Jacques was shouting.

“Come on Diane,   Come on, we’ll be under water soon.  Get a warm coat and your wellies.”

My hands shaking I turned the pages to see which album had the important photos of my father looking hopeful in his youth.

“Get a warm waterproof coat!” yelled Jacques.

My clothes! I waded through the mud clogged water and panicked the dress I wore for my daughter’s wedding; my favourite Mexican dress that was hand embroidered.   How could I leave these behind, I thought.

In the end all that is important is saving my own life and that of my husband I told myself.   What is the use of a saved painting if I am clutching it dead?

As I waded through the increasingly muddy water, pulling on my raincoat and searching for my wellies; unable to move fast as if I was in a film changed to slow motion.   I passed the bedroom and noticed my jewellery box.   I had never sought to wear expensive jewellery but every necklace; every pair of earrings had a story attached to it of who bought it for me and how I felt about them.

I carried on wading through the ever increasing depth of water realising that more possessions would just weigh me down.

I climbed into the dingy, supported by helping hands, noticing my neighbours looking wistfully back at their houses.   I shivered and linked arms with my husband, looking back at my house and giving thanks that we were safe and dry.

“Where ever we are together we are home” I said squeezing Jacques arm.

Then I found something in my raincoat pocket.   I secretly smiled with delight; it was my new digital camera.   Some attachments can be allowed after all.

We climbed out of the dingy into the hovering space capsule that took us to the mother ship where we would wait and watch for the oceans to recede again.

The Flood

I waded around my house panicking in the rapidly rising water that was pouring in from the flooding river.   It had happened much sooner than predicted.   My teeth were chattering with cold and I could not get my mind to think logically.   What could I save? The local radio had sent out an emergency message.

“The rescue service in your area will pick you up in a dingy.   You can only take two small items with you.   Wait on the top floor of your house where you can be seen clearly.”

Obviously I had already rushed to the desk and put my passport in my coat pocket and my husband Jacques had fished out the file with all our birth certificates and legal documents.

But what about Samantha’s paintings, Jacques fathers paintings, photos of my parents, my CD collection; our first photo album from the time we first met to the birth of our first baby.   But there were so many photo albums.   Which was the most important to save?

Attachments to material possessions are only a burden I reminded myself; but I wanted to preserve the memories of my dead parents for my grand children to see and photos of my children as babies and their graduations; to conserve the memory of our family through generations to come.

Sniffing, shivering, soaked to the skin and sobbing I grabbed a few albums from the dresser, and shuffled through them messing them up in my shaking hands, my emotions guiding my movements, any logical thoughts frozen by fear.   Jacques was shouting.

“Come on Diane,   Come on, we’ll be under water soon.  Get a warm coat and your wellies.”

My hands shaking I turned the pages to see which album had the important photos of my father looking hopeful in his youth.

“Get a warm waterproof coat!” yelled Jacques.

My clothes! I waded through the mud clogged water and panicked the dress I wore for my daughter’s wedding; my favourite Mexican dress that was hand embroidered.   How could I leave these behind, I thought.

In the end all that is important is saving my own life and that of my husband I told myself.   What is the use of a saved painting if I am clutching it dead?

As I waded through the increasingly muddy water, pulling on my raincoat and searching for my wellies; unable to move fast as if I was in a film changed to slow motion.   I passed the bedroom and noticed my jewellery box.   I had never sought to wear expensive jewellery but every necklace; every pair of earrings had a story attached to it of who bought it for me and how I felt about them.

I carried on wading through the ever increasing depth of water realising that more possessions would just weigh me down.

I climbed into the dingy, supported by helping hands, noticing my neighbours looking wistfully back at their houses.   I shivered and linked arms with my husband, looking back at my house and giving thanks that we were safe and dry.

“Where ever we are together we are home” I said squeezing Jacques arm.

Then I found something in my raincoat pocket.   I secretly smiled with delight; it was my new digital camera.   Some attachments can be allowed after all.

We climbed out of the dingy into the hovering space capsule that took us to the mother ship where we would wait and watch for the oceans to recede again.