My mother had sold the Logan Street House and moved into another house standing on a river's bank. The new house was a bit shabby – not nearly as nice as the Logan Street House.

As I sat in the new house's kitchen in the rear of the house, I looked out the window and noticed the river had risen – due to recent rain and snow. After standing up and going to the back door, I looked out; the water was already half way up the door. I thought about all the people who would drown in the flood and decided it would be dangerous to stay in the house any longer.

I ran into my bedroom and grabbed my flute and a few pieces of clothing. I called to my mother that we must leave as quickly as possible. After she had gone to the door and started to open it, I screamed that she must not do that because the water was so high it would certainly come in. As she opened it anyway, I saw that the water wasn't as high as I had feared and that the water was still a short distance from the door. But the water had risen high on some neighboring houses. Clearly our house was in a precarious position. I thought the back porch might soon be swept away by the flood.

I walked to the front of the house and opened the door; snow was covering the ground.

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