April 19, 1997

Most of the time I don’t even think about The Flood. But, like water, every once in a while the memories seep in and fill the mind. Normally this happens at times that are totally unexpected, set off by a sound, or a smell. And, like the water, the memories surface, swirl around awhile, then float away. Those events of twenty years ago have been weighing heavily on my heart and mind for the last month or so, brought to the surface by the twentieth anniversary, and held there by all that has changed in my adopted home over the last two decades.

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