Before the murky waters came Life was different Maw-Maw’s red-bricked house sat at the back of our dead-end road The ever-welcoming glass door with the Faulty hitch opened up to a two-step stair Leading down into a living room Encompassed with the smell of Cajun cooking And basked in the essence Of Family
After the murky waters came Life looked different I remember the water whirl pooling into the tops of my rain boots As I trudged next door to my aunt’s water-lined house To comfort Maw-Maw, who lost everything Her tears falling into the stench-infested puddles at her feet And jumping right back up in a splash as if they too Were hurrying to find shelter
The heat of the sun held the Stench of the monster That had us all in its grip Patches of brown grass mocked us Where the water had decided to leave early And accumulate somewhere else
Piles of our lives lined the driveways Mildew fogged up the windows of Miscellaneous cars and trucks Which still held secrets that the murky waters left inside What could be salvaged What remnants were left From before The murky waters came
Floors were ripped up Walls gutted out Bricks broke easily under the weight Of demolition Our hearts broke easily under the weight Of the water
I once watched a documentary about horror Which was described as something that simply should not be but somehow is Horror was the bulging, black molded bar in my kitchen The scattered furniture in my living room The stench that took over my senses at the opening of a door to go inside or outside; fresh air forgotten The fact that my bedroom looked normal in spite of the soggy carpet and the Drooping painting hanging on my wall, Clothes strewn across my bed in an effort To survive
After the murky waters left Life was different Life became “before the flood” and “after the flood” “Hey, how are you,” became “have you heard from FEMA?” “What are you up to” became “are y’all raising or demolishing?” Three mountains of bricks down my road became Trailers on pedestals The trash, our former possessions, was eventually gone New replaced the old
Now life is life We are thankful for what we have We still sit on that wooden swing in the shade of the afternoon And we reminisce of a time before the murky waters came All the while appreciating the Now
And we still laugh together We still cry together Up in that storm-safe trailer At the back of our dead-end road Gumbo is cooking on the stove And we’re basking warmly in the essence Of Family