I recall the first season of recovery as when time slowed down to a near stop. Each day was an effort. Was it the medication or the bottomless depression? Who knows? So I planted bulbs. Gardening has always been recognized as being therapeutic and a sign of well-being. It gives me pleasure to nurture and put my hands into the dirt as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I've been praying and waiting for the transformation of this house since August 1962. That's a long time by any standards. As of today, all the walls are up and primed. The plasters have completed the ceilings. I heard the colors for all the rooms have been selected and were on site. This will be just as much of a surprise for me to see what the gals have chosen, as it was waiting for that first preview issue of Martha Stewart Living to come off the Donnelly presses. I imagine they'll be a few ohhs and awes of inspiration. Just the idea of fresh paint sets a smile on my face.
You have no idea the pure joy I feel watching this once-upon-a-disaster come together. Camera in hand, documenting an extreme makeover nearly 48 years in the making. Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn't have a 16 wheeler parked in front of the house for effect when the homeowners return. I know just the right person to ask to do the job for me...oops....us. If you're familiar with the television series Extreme Makeover then you get the point.
This home may finally meet the images of a childhood fantasy come true. All things come to those who wait. I've learned to be patient. It does not come naturally but I've taught myself to savor the wait.
The moment I put the key in the lock, I knew something was wrong. As I pushed against the door, the unmistakable sound of roaring water greets my unexpected visit. As I rush through the kitchen towards the living room I know in an instant the pipes have burst. As I step into the front hall, gallons of water have slashed through the ceiling creating a cascade of multiple waterfalls. Nothing remained untouched. Water had breached the hall way and then some. A quick peak into a bedroom spies another ceiling about to cave. I whip out my cell phone to place a call to one of the go-to brothers knowing this conversation was a call for Action.
"This is the sound of fucking Niagara Falls in the living room!" The words escape unedited as I hold the cell phone away from my body witnessing the scene unfold myself. Less than 5 minutes later he is on the scene executing damage control. No longer alone, immediately I enter the living room drenched beyond repair. Dashing and skirting the falls, I begin scooping up photos and memorabilia thinking of mother. This disaster was going to rock her world. I gather memories as my brother warns me to get out because the ceiling might collapse. "Not while I'm here." Within moments another brother is one the scene and we all understand we have a catastrophe on our hands. It's a good thing we're all excellent crisis managers.
I am transfixed by the complexity of the situation. Water is gushing everywhere, washing away, purifying and engulfing. The water meter is spinning so fast it makes one dizzy. It was going to be one hell of a water bill next month. Must shut down the water and check the heating systems. Frankly, I admit to not knowing anything about these crucial household systems but I'm not unwilling to learn as we go. However, my presence is not needed. I've done my duty. I made the discovery and the necessary call for help. Later I would learn that had I not stopped in to check on the house, the consequences would be even more severe. It's hard to believe.
Timing is everything.
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