A Kansas Hurricane
I looked back with a smile as I was leaving to see my mom holding the
screen door open. The little white house
with the deep gray roof, the simple paneling, a window on either side and the
narrow walkway that led from the porch to the sidewalk said “Kansas” with an
exclamation point. I could see a pale blue sky and little puffy clouds overhead. It should have been a perfect day.
I was headed to school.
Mom was standing in the door, like she always did, wearing her favorite
maroon shirt. Standing tall she was squinting
just a tad so that she could see me wave goodbye and shout out “I love you mom”. She waved back and said "I love you too sweets". Then of course I had to tell her I’d
see her later, as I knew I would. As I started to turn my head in the direction I was walking, she showed a
slight look of concern and forced another little grin. If I close my eyes I can hear the screen door
creak and shut with a little snap.
The school’s architecture was very strange, no flow or
symmetry. As I entered, it appeared that
I was immediately escorted into a large cubicle, one of many throughout. You never saw one end of the building or had
a clue as to your direction or destination. No signs, no numbers, no labels or
directory. There was literally nothing,
no computers or phones. Just walls. The
walls were either a shade of silver or blue.
It was stark and cold.
I sat at the table and this man came in wearing a black suit
and tie. Crisp, as in executive
crisp. He placed a briefcase in the
middle of the table, pulled out a document and began reading to me terms and conditions
of some sort of insurance policy.
As he droned on through the
paperwork a feeling of panic surged through my body. I felt as if this was some sort of reading of
a will, a new destination, a place that had been pre-determined for me and I
wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted
to go back home to be with mom and that was that. I was supposed to be going to class and this
event was not in my plans. I ran out of
the room in search of my homeroom, my place of study.
The halls were narrow and zig zagged from side to side. I ended up in what was an auditorium. The room had two tiers. I found a seat in the first row of the second
tier, straight in the center. I had the perfect view. The benches morphed from
luxury theatre seating into small seats you would find in an old gymnasium. Then back again to soft cushy blue
seating. It was as if the room could not
decide what it needed to be. That was
the mystery of this building. When you
walked in it sort of becomes what it needs to be.
Today it needed to be a classroom, a place of learning, a
place of hope.
I am never one to arrive early. I am always just a tad late. This time I was
early and was so pleased to see that I had a perfect view of the grand
chalkboard and had a chance to settle in, taking notice of each new person’s
entry into the auditorium. I wanted for mom to be proud of me.
As I was waiting I noticed that my bag became overly heavy,
cluttered with lots of papers, books and personal items. Another wave of panic set in. I started to get worried that I had lost my
phone. I loved my cell phone. It was so unique. This phone was in the shape of a combination
lock, golden and fit perfectly in my palm.
The dial was old fashioned in the sense that if you wanted to make a
phone call, you aligned the digits vertically.
The code was the phone number. Each row was
0-9 and there were 10 rows. I loved the
sound, “click click click”, the lock would open and I was on the phone with
mom. I loved my phone. It was the only means available to talk to
mom outside of the house.
I quickly pulled the bag onto my lap and plunged my right
hand straight to the bottom. I was swimming
through its contents over and over hoping to find my phone, the only lifeline
to mom. Out of nowhere a huge gust of wind and rain swept over the building. The
sound was deafening. People started
running towards the edges to get to safety, stepping on top of one another,
screaming and crying.
My bag and all of its contents spilled out onto the stairs. I
watched my shiny golden phone roll off the edge of the balcony and drop into
oblivion. My only connection to mom was gone. The only line to hear her voice again was lost forever. I closed my eyes to see her once again, standing there, waiting for me to come home. I had never felt such pain until that moment in time.
The building rocked again and there was a thunderous bang, a
surge of rain and darkness overcame us.
I tried to gather my belongings but I could not stay steady. I found myself hanging from the second tier
by my fingernails. Someone pulled me up
and and we managed to get to safety. The fierce wind and water hit us like tiny
bullets. We could barely see as the
rains grew stronger.
What was once inside was now outside. The roof blew away in one giant flash. What was a sea of sunflowers was now a
sea of water. For miles and miles
nothing but cold water, snowy water, dark black water filled with debris. I looked and looked and looked for mom’s
house. I could not see her house. I could not see anything.
I am not sure what happened next as I think I passed out
from the trauma. I awoke to find myself in a car with a very nice couple who
said that they were here to help me find my mom. The car had no wheels and was on a black conveyor
belt. The terrain was very steep with
lots of hills. I could hear the clanging
of the gears as we escalated up to the top of the first hill, then down we
went, sliding to the bottom, only to be brought up to the top again. This ride went on for a bit and somehow we
were routed off to the side into their home.
The house was empty, more like a stage than a home. It had no furniture, no food and no belongings. It looked abandoned, but not. It was their home. Nothing was actually attached to any
surface. I remember a kitchen and a
bathroom. The white paint was chipped
and the kitchen counters had some sort of metal molding all around it. I sat for a moment to gather my thoughts and
began searching for a phone. I ran from
room to room looking in every corner, every closet, every cupboard and every
vent. I fell to my knees begging them to give me their phone and each time I was told here was no phone.
I accused them of lying.
I begged and pleaded. I needed to hear my mother’s voice! I needed to know that she survived! I needed to know that she was OK and wanted
to tell her again how much I loved her. I
needed to talk with her one more time. I needed her to know that I was there
and that I was going to help her.
I recoiled in exhaustion and sobbed. I would never be able to speak with my mom
again. The waters from the hurricane had
flooded the state of Kansas, reaching from the Gulf to Nebraska. Those of us that were left would start all
over. Her words of “I love you” from that morning would be the last words I would ever hear from my mom.
That would be the last time I would feel her loving smile.
The end.
Denise Archuleta
February 16, 2014
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I awoke this morning from that nightmare in total upper body pain, including severe pain along my collar bones and neck. I must have been squeezing
my body in a ball all night long.
I miss my mom so much.
I want so desperately to talk with her
just one more time.
I love you mom!
