Flood Disaster

I thought nothing could be worse than the experience of watching flood water rush in under my front door. I was wrong. It was the aftermath. 

In the days following the flood, my apartment was deemed unlivable––a complete hazard. I lived in a ground-floor apartment in the most charming, pre-war house. Charming, but outdated. Once the water swallowed up my home, mold festered and electrical wires sparked. Every single piece of furniture I owned had been destroyed, if not by the flood, then by the small fire that broke out as the water irritated old wiring. One never expects fire damage after a flood, but it turns out water and electricity don’t mix. 

Standing in my decimated old place, I was struck with a real sense of dread. I hadn’t been able to afford renters’ insurance, let alone flood insurance. I knew I wouldn’t just be starting over; I’d be starting in the negative. 

Back before the flood, when I moved out on my own, to be thrifty, I took my childhood bedframe and mattress. I had been storing my sweaters in the same dresser my mother had once folded my onesies in. My nightstand still had the name of my middle school crush carved into the drawer. The saggy grey couch I had spent three months saving to buy second-second-hand, the kitchen table with the mismatched chairs I had scavenged over the years, the curtains a friend had gifted me for my birthday…all gone. 

These things, while not aesthetically cut from a magazine, were laden with memories. To me, they were priceless. Replacing them, however, had a very real price tag I could not afford. 

I had no place to go, no clothing, no furniture, and no savings. My parents couldn’t pitch in, and had moved out-of-state years ago. Surviving on the kindness of friends with pull-out-couches, getting back on my feet seemed impossible.

Through a stroke of luck, my friend needed a new roommate. The few paychecks that racked up in the intervening months totalled to just enough for me to replace a few professional outfits and put down a deposit on a new apartment. My roommate promised half the rent and utilities, plus they came with a couch. One less piece of furniture to worry about! But the new apartment wasn’t home. Not yet. 

I moved into an empty room with nothing. I spent every night on the carpet in a sleeping bag. My neck, shoulders, and back ached all day at work. Working in a public school, I’m on my feet all day and need to be animated to keep my students engaged. Getting through the day was becoming harder. Not only was I losing faith that I’d ever get back to where I had been, I was in physical pain that ruined any chance at a good mood. It was an endless feedback loop of misery. 

As swiftly as the flood washed away the trajectory of my path, Mark’s Northeast Furniture Foundation rebuilt my future. When my roommate saw how I was sleeping, they recommended reaching out to Mark’s, A 501(c)(3) non-profit organization, determined to refurbish used furniture in the New England area. Mark’s quickly and efficiently reviewed my situation. In one trip, they provided an entire set of bedroom furniture. A sturdy bed frame and brand new mattress gave me a comfortable place to sleep. My students noticed a significant boost in my mood. Not only was I sleeping through the night, I was getting quality sleep. Every morning, I woke up ready to be an active participant in my life, because my life felt worthy of participating in again. 

Along with the complete bed, Mark’s delivered a beautiful dresser to keep my professional clothing safe. Keeping my work clothing unwrinkled in the new apartment had been a burden. With no closet, and no dresser, my shirts always seemed in danger of creasing or staining. I had barely scraped together enough money to buy the new clothing. The thought of them getting ruined, too, was more than I could handle. 

Functionality was essential, but Mark’s recognized the human need for comfort to make a house a home. They brought in a plush armchair after my new bed and dresser. It was soft with new fabric upholstery, and firm. I didn’t need that chair to save my back or clothing, but I needed it to save my sanity. Mark’s gave me a place to quietly read and grade papers, to enjoy a cup of coffee in the mornings before work. Overnight, that vacant room became my bedroom.

The furniture from Mark’s Northeast Furniture Foundation was refurbished with craftsmanship and care. That bed frame, dresser, and chair will be with me for years to come. When I look around my room, I’m proud of my furnishings. 

With one storm, I lost everything I had worked so hard to save up for over the years. Invaluable mementos were washed away in the blink of an eye. Financially, there was no way for me to rebuild my life. I knew I was stuck. Mark’s Northeast Furniture Foundation didn’t just give me refurbished furniture, they refurbished my future. They recognized the human need for a home. Homes are more than a place to hang your hat, and they are not empty boxes. A home is a place you can breathe in. And Mark’s transformed that post-flood apartment into my new home.