The One About The Creek

Wednesday

Jul102013

There is no doubt that had we landed on the hard, frozen ground, the damage would have been worse than it was when we softly plopped into a foot of water. THAT is why I consider the little creek that runs near our home to be a friend.

But today that same creek roared with anger. It spilled out from its home, covering roads and tearing a path of destruction for miles. It joined some other angry creeks and a few furious rivers and together, they waged war on Pittsburgh and the surrounding areas.

The flooding is why Alexis' summer camp had to close early today. The flooding is why it took a very long time to get home today. The flooding is why we found ourselves meandering around road closures and dead ends.

The flooding is why we had to drive by the trailer park I actively avoid.

The trailer park is fine as far as trailer parks go. The lots are large and you can tell that there is a healthy mix of people who are proud of what they've managed to put together and people who want more. There is a carefully placed collection of cat statues on one porch, meticulous potted plants in a yard, and a general aura of care. Mostly. There are a few homes falling into disrepair, but it's not the norm for that particular neighborhood.

It's just like the one where I grew up.

I avoid those things which conjure up the shadows of the past, so I avoid that trailer park. I don't like to remember the days of TV dinners and Banquet chicken, the days of KMart clothes and a torn backpack, the days of struggle and a general lack of understanding. I didn't understand then how my parents could be OK with living in that ratty old trailer, and I understand it even less now.

As I slowly drove through the trailer park of today, the shadows of the past darted to and fro. Alexis asked questions about nothing because that's what 7-year olds do. I gave answers that resembled something because that's what parents of 7-year olds do.

Just as we neared the edge of the trailer park, the signs of the angry creek became more evident. The tall grass looked like it bore the imprint of a giant snake-shaped UFO. It was crushed from the angry water that had poured through the neighborhood earlier in the day.

Some of the water was still standing there. It became deeper and deeper as we drove on, until it nearly kissed the side of the narrow road. I glanced up at the very last mobile home in the trailer park. It was completely surrounded by water.

A dream in the middle of a unwanted sea.

The old white trailer was in need of some work, and that was well before the water went crashing up against its walls. Its siding was dented and the windows dirty. Ragged curtains hung in the windows and a rusty swingset sat off to the side. The thing that stood out most, however, was seated right in front of the door. At the top of the stairs sat a man and what I presume to be his son. The man was perhaps my age and the son perhaps Alexis' age. They just sat there, atop the stairs with visions of devastation running through their minds.

Today they were the unlucky ones.

Sometimes the creek gives. Sometimes it takes.