It was two full days before we could even access the house. The backyard was still flooded and three quarters of the state had been declared a disaster zone. People were returning to their homes to heartbreak and devastation.
Our street was littered with people and cars dragging flood-soaked precious possessions and family heirlooms out of their homes and tossing them onto the street like the weekly garbage. It was a heartbreaking sight. I ran into the lady who lives two door downs. Our kids went to school together and she had only popped around the week before with a carton of fresh eggs from her chickens. "How are you?" I said...and she just burst into tears. There was nothing I could do but give her a hug. I don't think any words could have comforted her.
The stench was unbearable. A cross between a public toilet block at a chilli festival and rotting coleslaw that had been fermenting in a hot car for a week, the putrid blend made the task of cleaning up all the more difficult.
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