The Wrath of Mother Nature
Christi Batie
Professor Sam DeStefano
English Composition 121
June 22, 2014
The Wrath of Mother Nature
I’m sitting in my office when the alert comes over my phone, due to the threat of flooding, they are evacuating Big Thompson Canyon. My heart stops and my first coherent thought is “Call Grandma”. No answer. I call my dad, he hasn’t heard anything. Try my aunt and uncle- no answer. Last call is to my sister; thank goodness, grandma and grandpa are out of town. Now home to watch flood coverage on TV. It doesn’t sound good; there is lots of damage in the canyon. The memories of our childhood are something to be treasured but when Mother Nature wreaks havoc on those memories and turns it into something completely different; even after the clean-up has begun, you realize things may never be the same.
Grandma’s house has always been a refuge from the chaos of life, an oasis of calm and quiet. There are so many memories wrapped up in this one place. I remember drawers full of footie pajamas, cupboards full of matching themed dish sets, and teddy bears stuck in every possible nook and cranny of the house. Outside by the river, sits a deck where we can rest and just watch the water flow by. Our playhouse “The Gingerbread House” as we christened it, sits next to the swing set in a huge field. Here we hunt Easter Eggs every year, over 20 dozen eggs hidden under leaves, in clumps of grass, stuck in the trees, even in the wheel wells of grandpa’s truck, all being sought out by children and adults alike. So many memories flash through my head over the next few days as we sit and watch the news, waiting for any information about the condition of the house.
The first concrete information comes from distressing images posted on Facebook by a neighbor who ignored the evacuation order, showing silt packed at least 18 inches deep completely covering the grass, grandma’s garden, and the field. The water has flipped one of grandpa’s trucks over on its side and the silt half
Professor Sam DeStefano
English Composition 121
June 22, 2014
The Wrath of Mother Nature
I’m sitting in my office when the alert comes over my phone, due to the threat of flooding, they are evacuating Big Thompson Canyon. My heart stops and my first coherent thought is “Call Grandma”. No answer. I call my dad, he hasn’t heard anything. Try my aunt and uncle- no answer. Last call is to my sister; thank goodness, grandma and grandpa are out of town. Now home to watch flood coverage on TV. It doesn’t sound good; there is lots of damage in the canyon. The memories of our childhood are something to be treasured but when Mother Nature wreaks havoc on those memories and turns it into something completely different; even after the clean-up has begun, you realize things may never be the same.
Grandma’s house has always been a refuge from the chaos of life, an oasis of calm and quiet. There are so many memories wrapped up in this one place. I remember drawers full of footie pajamas, cupboards full of matching themed dish sets, and teddy bears stuck in every possible nook and cranny of the house. Outside by the river, sits a deck where we can rest and just watch the water flow by. Our playhouse “The Gingerbread House” as we christened it, sits next to the swing set in a huge field. Here we hunt Easter Eggs every year, over 20 dozen eggs hidden under leaves, in clumps of grass, stuck in the trees, even in the wheel wells of grandpa’s truck, all being sought out by children and adults alike. So many memories flash through my head over the next few days as we sit and watch the news, waiting for any information about the condition of the house.
The first concrete information comes from distressing images posted on Facebook by a neighbor who ignored the evacuation order, showing silt packed at least 18 inches deep completely covering the grass, grandma’s garden, and the field. The water has flipped one of grandpa’s trucks over on its side and the silt half