After a month of flood I set my kayak in the river. This is the water I grew up on, my parents’ front yard. It’s a north flow of catfish and cattails. The water’s still high, remnants of swelling from filling with spring. Melted snow that turned this body from river to lake. Water flooding fields and roads. Sweeping the old and settling the new.As I lived in my car in Texas, sleeping in its trunk for more than four months, my parents asked me to watch their country home through the coming disaster. I drove 1200 miles and spent more than a month in flood life. Rise, crest, and fall. Cutoff and cleanup.For two weeks their homestead turned into an island. One I couldn’t leave. I tended it alone, enjoying solitude. As water receded it left a mess that took weeks to clean. Drag. Burn. Drag. Burn. Drag. Burn. But now it was down enough to paddle. Back to its banks, more or less. So with this I set in for my seventh straight river trip. An unbroken chain of summers.
Source – begining https://gabfrab.com/2019/06/06/river-scrawl-beginning/