“The heights of the island were still in cloud . . . ” [Farther Away]

The height of the creek was still high, but I was hoping that the water would soon recede into the Gulf of Mexico. As well as I could tell from the GPS on my phone, I needed to go through Brightwater – the neighborhood from mine and across my neighborhood –  in order to avoid the deep puddles that blocked not only the sidewalk to the path elevated by hill next to Oyster Creek but the path itself. I was cheered by the fact that the path in Brightwater didn’t have many large puddles (or so people had told me), but, almost as soon as I’d left my house, it started to rain exponentially again. Even after spending time to acquire rain gear, such as an umbrella and an obnoxiously yellow and blue rain jacket, for the trek, visibility dropped to a few hundred feet, and I began to stop every ten minutes to make sure I didn’t lose any of my belongings so the tale of Hansel and Gretel didn’t repeat with me. I had to face downward so the downpour of the rain wouldn’t impair my vision to the point where I couldn’t see what was in front of me. For a while, I held to a trail marked by dead grass, but the ground soon became too muddy and scarred with truck tire tracks and the streets became too flooded for me to be sure I was still on the path.


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