Baptism
first published by The Front Porch
With three finals the next morning, I succumbed
after hours of cramming and the lulling downpour outside. A quick nap, I
thought; I’d even leave the light on. When my eyes reopened, a surreal vision of
dancing hatboxes teased them. Was I still dreaming? Amusement transformed to
panic as my foot hit cold water instead of floor.
Leaving the buoyant boxes behind, I waded through the river that was once my
hallway. Cat food nuggets streamed past me in my wake. Piles of textbooks
beckoned from below the water’s surface. In the kitchen, my two white cats
protested angrily from atop the breakfast table. Their damp fur was evidence
that the flood had caught them napping as well. Knee-deep in murky water, I
realized my foolishness in renting a basement apartment in a city existing below
sea level.
The water drained, leaving behind a terrible wet stench and an eighteen inch
brown mark on my white walls. As I swept out my waterlogged belongings, a
strange feeling possessed me. My sense of loss was replaced by elation. A
refreshing spiritual detachment from my ruined material items washed over me. I
felt renewed and ready to begin again.
***
©2004 Kristin Fouquet
watch the video here: Baptism