A Day Unlike Any Other

Berta Winiker

It was a day unlike any other
Waking to the sound of water
Anticipating fresh coffee
But, alas, a flood of water on the kitchen floor
Dripping into the basement
Concentrating on my sewing machine
Yesterday’s work on stitched cardstock, a soggy ruin
Water drips on my backside, comprehension stalls
Autopilot through navigation with insurance
Our efforts are futile and elementary with shop vac
My husband, forty pounds lighter from cancer’s toll
Determined to haul buckets up from a drain-free basement
My pleading, this is a drop in the bucket, stop
ServPro arrives to assess the landscape
Equipment hauled in, nothing remains in its former place
Hours later the house vibrates with the squadron of air movers
Deep blue zigzags of painters tape over cords and wires
Sinks transformed into new drains from makeshift mitigation
Where is the adjuster through this – manpower shortage
A vacation week, no less, “our phones will not be answered”
A friend says to submit your electric bill for this period
House hums from the machinery, earplugs are useless
My heartbeat registers in my ears, is my throat really sore
A checklist is running ragged,
What  about the cardboard box with machine embroidery parts
Did the water cruise towards the wooden box of threadsWhy couldn’t I understand the physics
Water is turned off under the sink, why is it dripping still
The kitchen floor will likely be ripped up tomorrow
Feeling short on gratitude but ripe with wonder
How much was tossed out and will the basement look cleaner