As my husband and I swept toward the drain the couple of inches of water that seeped into our basement on Saturday, I thought of my parents. The last time I battled cold water in a basement was in 2005 — about this time of year. Only that time, the sopping waters destroyed most of my memorabilia of my parents tucked away into boxes in the path of the foot or better of water. I use to open those boxes from time to time when I was feeling lonely for them. I would pull out a wallet and there was my Dad, in his long johns, telling his goofy rabbit joke for the 50th time, literally, and laughing so loud that I could not help myself — I had to laugh, too. I would pull out a necklace and there was my mother, standing in my doorway with car keys jingling in her hand and my sister behind her with a big smile on her face. For the first time in years, my mother felt well enough that day to take us on a drive through the countryside — and boy was that ride. Then I realize something after the water receded by Sunday and nothing was really harmed, that sometimes the worst of times are the best of times, for they can bring memories that help you not feel so alone.
Judy D.J. Ellich
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