Last night Hurricane Hanna hit full-force. Six inches of pelting rain.
Our basement flooded and despite the valiant efforts of both my
adoptive parents and myself, personal property loss was substantial.
This morning, as the clouds passed, it was time to drag up what we
could and try to sort out what was still salvageable. Our
front lawn was a battle field: water-logged stuffed animals, a futon
that now weighs more than a refrigerator, four old TVs, the entire
Encyclopedia of Dreams and Numerology, cardboard boxes of income tax
receipts dating back to 1998, tools that were rusted before the
hurricane ever hit, a cross-country ski machine with one ski missing,
the collection of troll dolls I forgot I even had, a box of cassette
tapes which included The Greatest Hits of The Beau Brummels, and The
Sounds of London by the English Muffins.
My poor dad, in the interests of allowing private mourning among our
family of three, was forced to post a sign that read: THIS IS NOT A TAG
Why a merciful god would let something like this happen, I have no
idea. Still, I pray things go better for all of you.
- - -
Tai Dong Huai was born in Taizhou, China. She has fiction in recent issues/postings of elimae,
Hobart, Word Riot, 971 Menu, jmww and others.
Photo detail on main page courtesy
of Naked Eyes.
Read TDH's story, "Natalie."
w i g · l e a F