Eleven years ago, on a cool Wednesday night much like tonight, I fell asleep as a newlywed to the sound of rain on the windows of our little blue 1930s frame house. I had spent the evening choosing some favorite family dishes from my handwritten recipe book. I was meal planning the upcoming week for my new husband wanting to wow him with my mad skills in the kitchen. I left the book on the couch and climbed into bed next to him. We were happy. But life would never be the same after we awoke. Everything changed setting our marriage on a path that no one could have ever expected.

That was the last night we ever spent in our little blue house. 

On the morning of April 18, 2013, we left in the midst of what I refer to as a Noah’s Ark type flood. My husband and I were able to wade out of our neighborhood with just one duffle bag each above our heads through the waist deep water. Some of our neighbors were rescued hours later by boat when the waters climbed even higher. We were the lucky ones, I guess. We were able to bring what we could carry.

When we returned to the house, the recipe book was gone. The antique dresser, filled with our wedding guest book, beautiful new table linens, and personalized Christmas stockings given to us for our wedding two months prior, was on its side. I had just unpacked those things the previous weekend. The force of the water entering and exiting our house had caused the heavy dresser to overturn…trapping my beloved recipe book beneath it. It must have floated off the couch and into the murky sewage filled river water…where it remained for over 48 hours until the flood waters receded and we could reenter the house that was almost our home.

I try not to think about that time. If our house hadn’t flooded, would we have started our family sooner as we had wanted? Would we have squeezed in one more baby as I had always hoped in my younger days? Would we have stayed in the blue house with the massive yard and barn for 5 years before upgrading to a larger home in the same community as we had planned?

We will never know. 

But somehow we made it through the other side. I often say that if we can survive those years where we lost our house, our time as newlyweds, our mothers and grandmothers, and so much more then we can make it through anything. I don’t often drive past the old house. It was torn down years ago to remain forever green space to prevent others from having to live our same nightmare. But this very week I was randomly attending a conference that took me less than a block from it. I couldn’t help but to drive by to see what has become of the place we had hoped to start our family. It’s empty and green. The driveway has long since been removed and seeded over with deep green grass. It’s both peaceful and sad in the same breath.

So many could-have-beens apparently never-to-be.

If you want to read the original story of the flood and how our local government failed us, you can find that—>HERE

The one year anniversary and very first blog post is—>HERE

Updates from years three, four, five, and eight are HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE.