'Striking Out into the Joyful Flood' by Chris Haven

I have seven birthdays coming up in the next couple of months, all mine, I’m due to get old very soon, so I take another man’s boat out for a spin. This is not a lake or a river but my town, flooded. Don’t worry because this is not like those other disasters. This flood is joyful. All of my neighbors are out on Jet-Skis and recording with Go-Pros. This is the disaster where we’ve all decided to celebrate just like we celebrate all the other bullshit. Everything that I own has been destroyed—of this I’m sure—and I am striking out on a new life.

This is the first time I’ve ever been in a boat and I’m not sure how it works, but I’m learning. There’s no motor or anything so I have to pay attention to each side with the paddle. It’s all about balance. I can go anywhere in my town but not anywhere in the world—it’s not that kind of flood. This is the kind of flood where the sun will come up the next day, after a while everything will dry out, and we’ll all be forced to find and wring out and sort what’s left of our lives. I’ll stay in this borrowed boat as long as I can, explore the fringes of where it might take me, and I’ll get better at navigating, but my body will give out before I quite master it.

I knew all this before I got in the boat.