January/February 2004

I was skipping through the fields. I smelled one of Mama’s tulips and sighed. It smelled just as I expected a sunrise would, if it had a smell. Suddenly, a boat appeared. I happily stepped into it. Suddenly the boat began to fill with water. I looked around. Water surrounded me! It was everywhere. I . . . I . . . I sat up quickly. I was in bed. It had been just a dream. I hadn’t had many dreams like this before. Here in the Netherlands, not many people feared the water because of the dikes, which held it back. But something wasn’t right. Just then my feet splashed in ankle-deep water. It churned and swirled around my legs. Startled, I looked down. Water filled my bed. The floor was no longer visible. Water was everywhere, inching higher and higher. I rubbed my eyes. Was I dreaming? The water couldn’t have made it over the dikes. It wasn’t possible! Was it? The icy water chilled my feet to the bone. I shrieked. My little brother Theodore, whom I call Teddy, sat up groggily. “What is it, Sieke? Am I late for chores?” he asked sleepily. His always-curious eyes looked up into mine. Teddy was nine that year. He was my only sibling. “Come on, Teddy” I ordered, “upstairs, now!” “But Sieke,” he began, and then he saw the murky water, creeping slowly upward. I grabbed his hand, and we rushed up the stairs. We nearly crashed into Papa, who was on his way down. “Boats! Look everyone, boats!” He looked behind us at the rushing water and said, “Go upstairs and wait with your mater.” Teddy and I swiftly obeyed. We climbed the stairs and ran into the welcome arms of our mother. Mama squeezed us tight. “We know all about it,” she told us when we tried to explain. “As soon as your papa woke up and saw it he headed straight for you.” I began to sob. “We’ll be all right,” she kept repeating, “we’ll be all right.” There was no fear in her soothing voice, though I think she was trying to convince herself as much as us. I looked up at Mama, her golden hair swept up in two yellow braids, and her warm blue eyes anxious. As I said earlier, I was twelve, and people were constantly telling me that I looked like my mater. I wanted to be as brave as my mama, sitting there, comforting us. Her fear just barely showed in her bright blue eyes. Suddenly Papa burst through the door. “Up . . . on . . . the roof . . .” he panted. The water crept up the stairs behind him, like a robber coming to take all we had. Herding us out of her lap, Mama flung the window open. Papa rushed over and lifted me up. “Grab hold of the roof, Sieke, and pull yourself up,” he instructed. So much was happening, and it was all happening so fast. Terrified, I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to the top of the roof, only halfway out the window. “Pull up, Sieke,” ordered Papa. “I can’t,” I sobbed. Mama looked at me with pleading eyes. Taking a deep breath, I heaved myself up on the roof. Shivering, I sat there, waiting for the rest of them. Next came Teddy, then Mama, and last Papa. We all sat on the roof, clinging to each other, watching the deadly water rise toward us every second. We waited for what seemed like an eternity before the boats arrived. Teddy saw them first. It was maybe midday. The sun was blazing, set high in the sky. Half of me wanted to jump in the cool water. I was staring at it, when all of a sudden Teddy cried, “Boats! Look everyone, boats!” He ran and gave me a big hug. A dozen or so boats were floating past us, filled with people. “Hello,” called a tall man from one of the boats, “would you like a ride?” Teddy jumped into a boat joyfully. I turned my back to them. What if one of the boats sprung a leak or . . . “It’s much safer here than there on your roof, missy,” said a voice from behind me. I whirled around. It was the tall man. My family had already disappeared in the people. The man somehow reminded me of Papa. Maybe it was his yellow beard, or his kind eyes. Smiling, I stepped into the boat and we floated away. I was nervous. It wasn’t the boat; I had been on boats before. It was that water, that terrifying water. We floated by a bloated cow, and I felt sick. “Mater?” I said, looking around for my mother. There was no answer. “Mater!” I called, frightened. “Pater? Teddy?” I looked around desperately, realizing that my family was not in the boat that I was! I thought back. Many of the boats had separated back by our house. Who knew how far away they were now? I sat down, distressed. I was alone. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up. It was the tall man. “You’ll find them,” he said. I looked down at his feet. He was wearing klompen, wooden shoes. I wondered if he lived near us. “I’m Mr. Van Roekel,” he introduced himself. “My name is Sieke,” I replied. “Sieke,” he repeated and smiled. I smiled back. Just then another boat came our way. A man yelled, “Van Roekel! We need some help over here! We have a family with six kids, nearly in over their heads.” Mr. Van Roekel jumped into the boat. I barely had time to shout a goodbye. I never saw him again. Later, another boat came by. I saw a few men talking to each other. One of them nodded his head. A few of his passengers climbed into our boat. Some in our boat moved to