“Is it too much to ask for it to rain?” I ask as I spend another summer steeped in sweat.
Yet I remember the year when the flood came, another year when I often asked: “is it too much to ask for it to rain?”
I remember the wave slamming into the side of my car, the terror as I wondered if I would be swept away into a field which had become a choppy lake.
I did not ask for it to rain for a long time after that.
when something well-loved
becomes a thing of terror
Image from the Longmont Times-Call
For those who are prone to questioning my veracity, the story related above is 100% true and I had PTSD following the incident. One of the ways in which this affected me is making me unable to write for a long time. People lost their lives during this flood, and I didn't know why I wasn't one of them. I've never done anything which I believe makes me worthy of continued survival, and yet, like toenail fungus, I persist in hanging around long past my sell-by date.
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