The Flood

Maya McBride, Guest Writer

Opening the door, I wasn’t greeted by my mildly animated dog, Andy, as I routinely was. Instead, it was a rush of water that welcomed me home—washing over my ankles and soaking through the thin material of my shoes. As the liquid surged past me, I watched our familial possessions escape out the door. And although I knew the presence of water in my typically dry house should’ve been cause for concern, I wasn’t instantly alarmed. Honestly, my first thought was: I hope the fridge is fine; I’m hungry.

Life used to be so simple…