Exactly 365 days after Hurricane Ian flooded our small farm it’s hard to tell that it ever happened save for the tell tale water lines on the walls of our home, the thin film of motor oil from the flooded cars that still cotes tree trunks and the water-warped doors that have never quite shut right since. But we remember it well. Every time it rains we look at each other as if to ask, “Is it happening again?” With each new storm formation in the Atlantic basin we are convinced it’s coming right at us, to finish the job, to take what we have clawed back from the floodwaters.
We remember falling back one by one abandoning the rescue efforts of our shop, our newly-built guesthouse, tree nursery and vehicles as if under siege by an unstoppable enemy retreating to the Alamo of our home as it turned from an island to a sinking ship. We remember piling all of our belongings and family heirlooms as high as we could until there was nothing left to do but surrender and await our fate. We remember dancing in the candlelight to music in our heads as the waters rose and trees came down around us praying to the great unknown that our baby remained in Maggie’s belly for just another day.
But out of this suffering and tribulation we have learned valuable lessons. We’ve learned that we cannot rely, ever, on our government but rather our community. We’ve learned to build and plant trees in raised mounds to withstand future flood events that will surely hit us again. We’ve learned to cherish what we have now, and rid ourselves of what does not bring utility or joy. We’ve learned that we are not in this alone. Strangers near and far sent checks, equipment and showed up to help clean the sludge from our home so that Maggie could give birth to our son as planned, at home, only days later.
On this anniversary of the worst day of our partnership we look back stronger, wiser and determined to pay back our debt to our friends, family and tribe. To everyone who helped us get on our feet, thank you. We will never forget it.
