That was when I noticed that a new river had formed between me and home, flooding more than one lane of the street and I couldn't tell how deep. When I had steeled myself to cross the stream, there was a moment when I envisioned my car swept away and unable to get traction, but then I was across and a moment later was parked and walking inside. My mother greeted me at the door and mentioned that she had been clearing debris from the storm drains to lessen the flooding, but apparently more debris had collected since then and the rain was still falling. I put on hold my plans to change my clothes and settle in to bed, and instead went back outside, rake in hand, to clear the drains again.
I spent the next half hour wading from drain to drain for three blocks, putting my arm elbow-deep into the opaque water to clear leaves, branches, and other debris that had washed down the gutter from downed trees to the west of us. A neighbor joined in, and we traded sympathy and encouragement while coordinating our efforts. Twice the streetlights flickered or went dark above our heads while we blindly groped in the rushing water. Cars continued speeding down the road, but one man in a pickup truck managed to slow down long enough to shout "You're fucking crazy!"
When I could no longer see any massive flooding, I made my way back, re-clearing the drains I saw on the way that had already accumulated more leaves and sticks. But I was seeing and hearing sirens, and wanted to change out of my pants that were soaked to the knee. I could have done more.
