Monday afternoon, the skies opened up and dropped six inches of rain on the Detroit area in less than three hours. Unbelievable. It rained and rained and kept on raining. Hard, like a tropical downpour. My little street, Austin Avenue, was a river. Current and everything.
No flooded basement for us. On the wall behind the washing machine, a bit of paint flicked off the cement. The wall there was damp but that was it. We were very, very lucky.
Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment in Dearborn. Didn’t make it, every time I tried to go west, the street was flooded. I’m talking feet-deep floods, cars abandoned, water up to the doors. I had to cancel an appointment today, too–areas of freeways I needed to travel are still under water: I-94, I-75, the Southfield Freeway.
I went on a recon mission this morning, turned on the radio and heard that some areas in New York got 13 inches of rain yesterday. Here, the sun was shining, but everywhere I looked, heartbreak: televisions and couches and rolled-up carpet stacked on curbs, bags and bags of sodden, ruined memories. Too many people sitting on porches, looking lost.They say this was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
We can only hope.