Farm Flash Flood

When I was just three years old, my dad bought a farm 2 hours south of where we lived. It was set on 8 acres, with 100-year-old buildings, and a barn with a roof that sagged in.

Immediately, my brother, sister, and I became real 'country kids'. We painted buildings and splattered our overalls with paint. We drove lawn tractors around wearing baseball hats. We sang to country music, gardened for hours on end, and caught fireflies in glass jars. The only thing we didn't have was farm animals.

My sister and I would explore the forest surrounding our farm for hours on end, each carrying buckets that we would use to collect mushrooms (morels were the best), rocks (we called them 'gems'), and old pieces of junk (we found old purses, shoes, and car pieces sitting in the woods).

At the age of nine our dad started giving us driving lessons in an old jeep (or 'Trooper' as we called it). I also became a dirtbike girl. I spent all hours on my dirtbike- which I called a motorcycle- and would enjoy racing through the fields parallel to the highway, trying to race groups of Harley Davidson riders. My uncle Al called me Hell's Angel.

Then, one year we had a brilliant idea. We wanted to bring a friend to the farm!

We called up my friend, a girly-girl named Katie, and invited her to come, along with her mother and sister. We gave them a wonderful tour of the rundown buildings, showed them our favorite trees, and pointed out over one of the giant hills and pronounced "over that hill is Hogwarts." (We honestly believed it too).

It being April, the whole farm was damp from melting snow. The air felt fresh and alive. I couldn't understand why Katie seemed so underwhelmed. Couldn't she see the beauty in everything? That moss-covered log, the dripping storm drain, the rusty mailbox, and the sagging roof?

I decided it was time to show Katie the forest. If anything, that would impress her.

My sister and I pulled out our huge map of the forest that we'd drawn and pointed out all the landmarks, before leading my mom, Katie's mom, and Katie's sister down into the forest ravine.

Throughout the middle of the forest a thin stream was flowing, which we happily leaped over. Mud squelched on the ground, and we crawled out over a log to point out the "Great Pine Tree of The Forest."

We were having the time of our lives pointing out the landmarks of our forest. My mom made small talk with her mom, and Katie's little sister let out a never ending stream of complaints about the mud (which nobody listened to). The birds were singing, the air was fresh, and we were out in the wilderness. I hoped a deer would show itself so that we could amaze Katie even more.

We turned around about halfway through the forest and began trekking back, our boots squelching delightfully in the mud. So lost in our reverie's were we, that we didn't notice the water from the stream starting to build.

By the time we had come back to our starting point, a roaring torrent of water rushed where the stream had once been. There was no way we could cross back over to the other side without getting dragged under and drowned. We were trapped, unable to get back to the farm!

My sister, Katie, and I stood in a row surveying the surroundings with an air of satisfaction at the adventure before us. A real flash flood... imagine that. Our mothers, meanwhile, were freaked out. They meant action.

They begin grabbing logs from trees that had been swept over by the surging current and placing them carefully over the water in a makeshift bridge. The water was steadily growing stronger, until it seemed the size and strength of a small river. My mom crossed over first, to make sure it was safe, and after some wild windmilling of her arms, landed safely on the other side of the current, sliding ungracefully in the mud.

My sister, then Katie, went next, creeping across the unsteady, slippery logs to the other side. When it was my turn I was paralyzed with fear, my eyes mesmerized by the surging current.

"Come on, Christine!" My sister yelled.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I looked up uncertainly, than placed an unsteady foot on the slick log "bridge". I decided it'd be best to just get it over with, and run to the other side.

Slipping back and forth I did two wild leaps on the logs towards the other side. My foot caught the angle wrong and I felt myself slipping backwards, my arms windmilling. Just when I thought I was going to fall into the deadly water and get pulled under, a strong arm yanked me towards the other side where I skidded, the mud spraying in the air and landing all over my mom and her new jacket.

Breathing heavily, adrenaline rushing through me, my jeans soaked, I watched as Katie's sister and mom crossed last. The logs that served as a bridge were slowly getting loose as the current tried to pull them down stream. Both mother and daughter were taking very slow, cautious steps, hardly moving forward at all. I wondered why Katie's little sister couldn't just cross by herself, and had to be led by her mom.

At the last minute Katie's little sister began slipping wildly, her mom doing everything she could to hold her up. Then in a last moment of desperation, Katie's mom shoved her daughter towards my mom, who reached out to grab her, and at the same time got her legs soaked and her boot pulled down the river, never to be found again.

Everyone was safe and sound on the other side of the river. We were drenched, covered in mud, and panting with adrenaline as the current finally broke apart the makeshift bridge and dragged it down stream. Watching in a solemn silence, nobody spoke. Then, all in sync, we turned and starting dragging ourselves back to the farmhouse.

At the farm my sister, Katie, and I began babbling at 100 miles per hour about the adventure we had just survived. We could of died and drowned! It was so exciting.

Our moms, however, set together making hot cocoa in a sort of stunned angry silence. After we had all dried off and taken cold showers in the 100 year old farmhouse, Katie's mom tersely announced that she and her daughters were leaving. I didn't understand.

My sister and I said a regretful goodbye to Katie's family before loading up our own car to drive home ourselves. My mom had her lips pursed, which was never a good sign.

Looking back now, I don't understand it, but it seems that Katie's mom blamed the danger inflicted on her and her daughters on our family. Like somehow we had been responsible for the flash flood.

Needless to say, never again did Katie come down to our farm, or come over for that matter. Every time we called, her mom would politely tell us that her family was "busy doing other things" and that Katie would not be able to attend. As happens in the friendships where the parents disagree, we slowly drifted farther apart. Now I haven't spoken to Katie in 2 years, not because I'm mad, but simply because I don't know her anymore. I guess that's just the way things go.