I can't even say that I care.
I watched the ends of the engineered wood floor begin to curl and buckle and watched as the seam turned a dark black, evidence that the glue had succumbed to the water seeping through. And I remembered the summer of 2014.
We were putting up Christmas Sunday, and I honestly don't even know what made me get down on the dining room floor and touch the seams - but I did and it was wet. A short trip around the corner to the closet that held the furnace and the hot water tank. I found a wet cement floor. I didn't say a word.
Now there are 7 fans and one gigantic humidifier in my house - much like the summer of 2014. Twenty days before the world ended, the upstairs toilet exploded and our bed and our floors were ruined. I posted on Facebook that night early in July - "it's only a floor. My children are healthy." And then they weren't.
So now the noise and the ripping up of the floors, and the insurance, and the picking out new floors is all a reminder of a summer we can't forget and don't want to relive.
I have tried all day to tell myself - "it's only a floor" in an effort to push the fears aside, to deny the trauma a foothold in my mind and heart, but I want you to know that when I walked in the door after board meeting and heard the sound of the fans, I had my husband drive me away from this house almost immediately. I felt my throat close, and I couldn't stay.
We spent an hour talking about our day - his with insurance and the restoration team and mine with Union Leadership and then sweet KendalMay texted - missing Taylor and her "let's eat popcorn and M&M's while we watch movies" attitude. Yes, that wit, that ever vibrant "let's have fun anyway", "the same responsibilities will be here tomorrow"; "the water heater sucks so let's get ice cream" attitude that always brought sunshine to the wettest day.
When we arrived home, Wade sat on the couch diligently completing the foreign language of Differential Equations and cooking a pizza. He nonchalantly relayed to us he had been offered an interview with Harvard for college admissions. And oh- by the way - Price gave him a suit coat for Christmas so we need to get that fitted by Friday for the interview.
I didn't know which piece of news to respond to first.
Price gave you a suit coat!!!
I had texted a former student earlier about the width and breadth and heighth and depth of God's love even during the loss of her own child.
Yet even while the flood of grief seeped up through the seams of our wood floors and tried to banish us back into the dark, the God of light and love invited himself in.
You can see it in her face can't you in the picture - "It's a floor mom. Let's get ice cream!"
"Harvard!! - You're a freak, boy! Who gets interviewed by Harvard"
We miss you baby girl.
No one can give your brother mess like you can, and he needs your mess. No one can blow off a day like you and make it feel like the right thing to do.
I don't even know what I am going to do about your friend Price buying sweet baby Wade a suit jacket. I don't even know., except to say he is as good a friend to you now as he was before. You are so loved, Taylor Renee. And Price is just so good.
Pray the fear subsides sweet friends, that we remember the faithfulness of tonight even when we couldn't stand the fans. Pray that the light wins.