Running water – a blessing or a curse…

Running water is a blessing. It is beautiful, and the sounds of the coursing river passing over rocks and barreling over cliffs, carving out granite runways is usually a marvel as one stands on the sidelines watching nature unfold in all of its glory.  As recently as this past summer as I had just setted down to relax, I was stretched out with a good book, mesmorized by the story unfolding inside the pages of my book. I heard the sudden burst of thundering sounds of running water.  It actually sounded more like a runaway train with brakes roaring within the wall behind my head.  I glanced around the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary, yet the noise was extremely loud. I ran upstairs to the landing and on up to the next floor to see what was happening.  The race against the water was futile as I discovered the master bedroom already had a flow that was curiously similar to the rivers that I have witnessed flowing past me in the mountains when I was vacationing.  In seconds I snatched up my ancestor’s oval heirloom shadow box which had fallen off its wall hook when the water burst through the pipe with such velocity.  It already had water marks on it and I put it up high and then I dove under the master sink, to turn off the valve.  I was drenched by the copious amount of water flowing, and then I discovered the water had burst the shut-off-valve from its grasping point on the pipe.  It was hanging limply as the water coursed over it.  Quickly I ran down many stairs to the porch outdoors and down the garden path to the shutoff valve at the lowest point outside my house.  A neighbor heard the commotion and quickly came to my aid to turn off the valve.   I returned upstairs to a room of water… water, water, water everywhere.

Everyone always says that water will go where it wants and there is no rhyme or reason, it just follows its own course.  I have to say that old adage is true, it traveled far and wide in my home, sometimes skipping over something, and as it evolved it would churn this way and that way, under the vanity, under the floor boards, under the closet, under the shower, under the master bedroom, wicking itself up the bedskirt into the bedding itself, and continuing on under the hall rugs, dripping out through the downstairs ceilings and walls and on down to the garage three stories below.  I must admit that I was in shock but still trying to save everything that was under the water, moving things here and then there, when the water presented its wicked self at a later time, then moving those precious belongings once again into the kitchen where curiously no water seemed to flow.

One never knows how to one will react when presented with adversity. In one moment my tranquil state was interrupted into a world of chaos. Water is intrusive and it is cruel because it hides itself and runs its course in a matter of minutes.   I had recourse though.  Man-made machines dried out the entire house and then the gutting of walls and the floors gave light to where the water flowed because it left a stain and a trail as it carved its way through sheetrock and fibreboard material and painted ceilings.

In this economy my disaster became other people’s jobs to retore and revitalize my house.  The water damage was a blessing to those who helped return my home to a more livable environment.   I was fortunate to have a great team: my brother whose organizational skills helped me with copious details to keep track of, a great interior designer who could visualize a new bathroom and vanity area, and a great contractor whose workers would fit all the pieces together to recreate a tranquil space.  I am grateful for their help and expertise in returning my life back and restoring my home to a tranquil nesting place where I can once again write my stories and read my books in a harmonious state of mind.

The nature of water, whether blessing or curse, is still so precious whether it flows in rivers, graces our tables, and blessess our daily intake.  It is a wonder to be reckoned with because its sheer volumous existence. We are ever so dependent on its very existence, even in the heart of adversity, we still need water to thrive and survive.



Writing little snipits on notecards, doing little watercolors were always things I would do to stay in touch with friends and family. Today those little snipits are woven into the stories and they have also become the illustrations in my children's books: Elephoot, Elephoot Returns and Penelope - The Tea Mouse. I am currently working on my next book...
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