Displaced

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