On March 13, 2019, a bomb cyclone hit the Midwestern United States. As a Nebraskan, my home was included in those affected by this "perfect storm". My house was in an area of Norfolk, NE that was evacuated in fear of the levee failing.
This was written as I was waiting for the evacuation notice to be lifted. I was in a small apartment temporarily housing 9 adults, 3 children under the age of 5, and 4 dogs. We returned to our house the next day. Three weeks later, most of the items from our basement are upstairs. My library/office/studio/retreat is filled with totes and inaccessible. I still feel displaced, waiting for work to be done to our house both outside and in the basement. 4-4-2019
Displaced
I am
at work on a Wednesday morning,
having
braved the dense fog
and
to bring the computer home
because
tomorrow is predicted to be icy
and
I will most likely not make it
into
work.
It
is raining
and,
for the first time in weeks,
above
freezing.
Something
makes me look at the radar and
seeing
more deep green & yellow approaching
I
pack up and drive towards home.
Westbound
on 275,
water
is already flowing across the highway.
I
come home to help vacuum water
from
our basement,
the
walls, wood, and floor soggy.
Ill
and exhausted, mentally drained,
I
sleep without my pill.
The
next morning I am awakened
with
a shout and the light.
It
does not register in my mind
until
my sister calls—
“How
are you and where are you going?”
Only
a few blocks from each other,
our
houses are close to the levee
holding
its own for now
but
we are being evacuated
just
in case.
The
mountains of snow are melting
and
with the frozen soil
and
rain
liquid
has nowhere to go
but
race
along
the surface,
following
itself.
This
will be known
as
the flood of ’19.
My
friend calls—
the
police haven’t been to our house
but
they will.
We
need to leave.
My
husband insists we go to his brother’s.
So I
pack—
the
essentials,
the
computer,
and
the books
signed
by my dead mentor
of
course. [“Is that silly?”
I
ask my sister]
I
follow my husband
in
circles
until
we find the apartment.
I
feel meek
shy
not
unwelcome
but
alien
a
transient
an
outsider
--displaced
So I
sit
wanting
to curl into a corner
and
read
Not
realizing how overwhelmed
the
small children will fill my brain
my
husband pushing
to
leave
before
evacuation has lifted.
I am
close to not being okay
I am
close to collapsing or exploding
stoic
on the outside
I
want to scream and cry and walk
my
legs falling asleep where I sit
trying
to be social
but
telling myself
hold
on
just
for now, like the levee,
hold
on
just
one more day.
3-13-2019
JSEP