On the last weekend of February 2022, starting on Friday, it rained in Brisbane.
Not normal rain.
It was a strange rain - heavy, hard and non-stop. It fell furiously and at the same thick, relentless volume all day. Maybe it eased off once or twice, but mostly, non-stop. All day long.
I've never seen rain fall like before. I'm used to rain coming in bursts, easing up as though to take a breath, then falling hard again for a bit. Not non-stop.
I worked from home, periodically looking out to marvel at this incredible non-stop volume, and very grateful I didn't have to go into the office and drive in this kind of weather.
That evening, we took a little walk in the rain to look at the creek at the end of the road. It fills very easily after a little bit of rain. The creek had climbed its banks and had filled the surrounding parklands into a lake. Some local kids apparently took their boogie boards down to have a play in the new lake.
On the news, they called it a "rainbomb".
On Saturday, we discovered the sheer volume of rain, coupled with some poor drainage, meant our downstairs had water coming inside at different spots. Not flooding, but what gets called (I think) 'stormwater'. So we spent a lot of the day in a combination of mopping, trying to move all the as-yet unpacked boxes to drier areas, trying to macgyver temporary solutions to improve drainage in saturated areas too close to the house, and trying to unpack and assess boxes which had been water-hit.
The rain didn't stop. We didn't stop. I think I fell over for an hour around 4am. Hubs didn't sleep at all.
On Sunday, the rain intensified and it was more of the same but more volume - except that our hands and tempers were increasingly stretched thin. It felt more and more like trying to mop deck of the Titanic. The weather app on my phone promised an easing of rain around 1pm, then 3pm. I didn't realise how much I was clinging to those forecasts of easing rain. So when the rain didn't ease in the early afternoon, and then at 3pm the app adjusted itself once, then twice, to land on a new forecast of 100% rain until midnight, I was beside myself.
LittleOne was absolutely wonderful that whole weekend - patient, willing to be as self-sufficient as possible with amusements, coming downstairs into the permissible dry zone to see how we were doing, and occasionally sitting on a chair in the water-hit area with us and giggling as we made jokes about Rhino (from Spiderman) trying to take over the city with rhino wee-wee but "not my Rhino wee-wee, the zoo rhinos' wee-wee!" LittleOne was utterly amazing for a 3-and-a-half year old. Although having LittleOne fall asleep alone on the couch that night will have its special scar of guilt for me. And the next day's confession that "I was a bit lonely" has bruised my heart forever.
Around 10.30pm on Sunday night, I hit my wall. I'd already rage-mopped and sob-mopped and mopped with all the degrees of resignation, pragmatism and despair. I'd already raged, sworn, begged and pleaded with the clouds to please just stop. I couldn't keep going all night again. I knew I couldn't.
Not long after 11pm, the rain eased. It eased then stopped, giving us hope that the forecast midnight lull might have just arrived a bit earlier. We stopped for the first time in hours. I think since 2pm. Hubs made us a cup of tea and we drank it downstairs, relieved to just not be mopping for a bit. Hubs had had no sleep, so he went upstairs to rest for a bit, while I slowly sopped at my still-watering sections.
Just after 1am, the rain squalled back as though it had never stopped. It's amazing how much that little bit of rest had helped me, and I picked up my mop with a pragmatism that surprised me. I tried to cover my and Hubs' areas, and I managed for about 10 minutes before I had to go and ask Hubs to come down and help. The rain pelted angrily looking for all the world as though it was back for the rest of the night. But after another 10 minutes, the rain stopped. This time, properly. As thought it had just returned to had to have one last, spiteful, parting deluge. To get us up, on alert, and prepped to do it all again - and then to laugh at us and take off. At that point, it was only what we expected from this sadistic raincloud.
Hubs trudged back upstairs again. I knew my areas would ooze water for a bit longer, so I dealt with them over the next 1-2 hours. As I mopped the dregs for the last time that night around 3am, the floorboard patterns swam and swirled into effortless and amazing Miyazaki painting wonderlands. Hallucinations, I presume.
I sat down and eased my waterlogged feet out of my flip-flops for the first time at 3am and had another cup of tea. Swollen fingers and welts, blisters, callouses and sore points in shoulders and necks, all sat and waited for me to notice them.
I fell asleep at 3.30am and was woken up at 6.30am by LittleOne.
I ran downstairs to check and some more water had eased it as a result of the over-saturated everythings, but manageable with a quick, casual mop. No more rain. Time to breathe.
There was much, much more to do with waterlogged boxes to rescue, damage to assess and everything else, but the rain had stopped.
I gave my boss the briefest of updates and took a leave day, thankful I had the means to do so. We caught the news and that was when our jaws dropped.
While we were maniacally mopping our little world on the weekend, half of Brisbane had flooded. And not only Brisbane. So many lower-lying areas - Lismore and the northern rivers area in northern New South Wales. Rivers and creeks had burst their banks and towns and houses were underwater.
Brisbane sits in a flood plain. Between rivers and plains, flooding is a given, which is why so many houses are built on stilts or high off the ground in Brisbane. There are flood maps you need to consult before you buy your house. Bad flooding gets talked about in years. 1974, 2011, and now 2022. It wasn't long before 2022 was being talked about as worse than 2011. And 2011 was bad.
It's not always consistent either. Some places flooded in 2011 weren't touched this time, and vice versa. Other places are in flood zones and are consistently hit. The place we lived before - only 3 months ago - Rocklea, is a known flooding area. Many houses are perched a storey-and-a-half off the ground. The place we lived in was only a metre or so off the ground. After a few hours of rain, the bottom of the garden would become glassy and swim with water. I have no idea how it fared after this rainbomb. There are people who have lost everything. Insurance premiums are insanely high in these flood areas, so people take the risk to go without. You're fine for years until you're not. I pram-walked with LittleOne and Indi up and down some of these Rocklea streets everyday. It's heartbreaking to think what they're experiencing. And that thought in the back of my head - if not for 3 months, might this have been us?
Whatever we went through on our weekend of little failed-drainage-stormwater-run hell, is nothing to what those who've been flooded. Everything others have gone and are going through. Going by social media (always a risk, I know), official responses seem sorely lacking and even formal rescue services seem poorly coordinated. I'm not saying there's no help - people have been busting their butts to help, formally and informally, but there's such a thing as 'organised disaster response', and we should have a system that's able to swing into gear and respond and make you feel like you're not alone. But when you see stories like people go-funding their own helicopters while the Australian Defence Force focus on PR, and people coordinating their own rescue logistics, rescuing a grandmother floating in her bedroom one foot from her ceiling and organising water and food drops for stranded people and cattle, people's entire lives sitting in ruins on the kerb, hosing down walls and furniture with bleach, and describing all the things photos can't share like ongoing power outages, the smells of tons of spoiling food, sewerage, drowned cattle, petrol and diesel mixed into everything - and that there's seemingly no formal rescue going on, you despair. And then you despair some more.
And then there's the wider, insane picture in the world with Russia going troppo and people and animals there being made to abandon homes and lives and endure things they shouldn't have to endure. I thought the world would make more sense as I grew older, and that there was a way to make it all work. And now, I don't know. And then it's all despair.
We got some hot, muggy sun from Monday to Wednesday, and we hoped the saturated ground was starting to dry out. On Thursday morning, a vicious super-cell thunderstorm belted in unannounced early in the morning. The storm skimmed us. It hit other areas hard. We caught the edges and the storm still showed us how quickly the water could return inside the house. But we were lucky. The storm hit other areas hard. For many others, it meant a second round of flooding.
There were predictions about more super-cell storms for Thursday and Friday, which led to recommendations of closing schools and businesses. The other storms didn't eventuate, for which I'm supremely grateful. I think the state premier had to apologise for advising that everything be closed on Thursday and Friday, but - are you kidding? - after the week we've just had, I'd much rather have a storm risk be over-estimated than under-estimated.
We're still cleaning. Lots to do. I'm nervous and twitchy about any rain storms at the moment. Hoping for sun to dry out everything. There was a thunderstorm due yesterday, on Sunday, a week after the rainbomb. I was twitchy and nervous all day about it. And when it did hit, I cringed. Worrying about the water damage that might be on its way. Fortunately, it only lasted 30-odd minutes, and not the 3 predicted hours. But it's a psychological fear now. Until we get better drainage in place.
And with the cleaning and the cleaning out, there's the comparison to the people who are having to throw out everything or leave everything behind. And then there's the being overwhelmed by stuff. So much stuff. Childhood stuff, books, more stuff. Sentiment and the weight of things. And what to do and where to put it all and whether I even want to.
There's meant to be more rain this week. It's a normal week again - roads operating, schools open and expectations of being back into the office. How can things ever be normal again? For many, they won't - they can't. For some, they might. For many, they will. But right now, it all feels like a long time away.
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