They hadn’t seen the little stream flooded like that in decades! Eight-year-old Johnny brought his little brother out to the edge of the stream to see the roaring of the muddy water.
“Wow!” shouted little Bobby, as he gazed at the roaring stream . “What happened?” Bobby’s little face gazed at the boiling, debris-filled water.
“It’s a flood,” Johnny explained, walking down the edge of the creek, observing the shaking of the shrubs being torn from the banks, as they slid away as the water overpowered the banks, now slick and muddy from the power of the rumbling water.
Suddenly, Bobby broke away and ran down to the edge of the bridge.
“Bobby, come back, the bank might collapse!” Johnny cried.
“No! He cried. The bank was sliding away, carrying Bobby with it.
With his last bit of strength, Johnny grabbed Bobby’s’ belt as he clung to a bush with his other hand. He plucked his little brother from the deluge, carrying him back to the trailer on the hillside where they lived.
“Oh my God!” cried their mother as she ran down the rotting steps. “What in the world happened.”
Tears were running down Johnny’s face as his mom held Bobby tightly in her arms. Johnny was lost for words, all he could say as he sat breathlessly on the steps was, “The bank collapsed, I couldn’t get him!”
“No, baby, their mom smiled, you DID get him, you are the bravest boy I know!”
They were all crying now, dirty and cold as they sat there watching the rushing water carry away the bush that Johnny had been holding onto.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered, the rusted trailer, the old red truck, daddy loosing his job. They had each other. Mother carried little Bobby in to his father, as he sat with his head down on the tattered couch.
For the first time in weeks, Daddy smiled. He knew everything would be alright.