I thought the worst part of the flood would be the water. Watching it seep under my front door was terrifying. But the hardest part came after.

My apartment was declared unsafe. Mold spread. Wires sparked. What the water didn’t destroy, fire damaged. I had no renters’ insurance. No savings. No way to replace what I had lost.

The furniture wasn’t fancy. It was mine. My childhood bedframe. A dresser my mom once used for baby clothes. A couch I saved months to buy. Even curtains a friend gave me for my birthday. They carried memories. Losing them felt like losing pieces of myself.

After the flood, I drifted. I slept on friends’ couches. Later, I rented a small room. But it was empty. For months, I lay on the floor in a sleeping bag. My back ached. I went to work exhausted. Teaching is hard when you feel broken.

At the time, I thought I was completely alone. Only later did I hear about Mark’s Northeast Furniture Foundation. They refurbish and deliver furniture to people starting over. I learned how they helped someone who had gone through almost the same thing I did. Mark’s gave them a bed, a dresser, even a chair. That empty room became a home.

When I heard their story, it struck me. That could have been me. Instead of months of pain and exhaustion, I could have slept in a bed. I could have had a place to breathe.

Floods take more than belongings. They take away stability and leave you adrift. Rebuilding doesn’t start with big things. It starts with simple comforts—a bed, a dresser, a chair. Small things that make life livable again.