What I thought would be floods of tears

I am four days into my first full time working week after two years at home with Isaac. I would have presumed this blog post would about missing my baby or not remembering what five days of work felt like. Instead, I find myself amidst the worst natural disaster Brisbane has seen in three decades. When Isaac was ten months old, I returned to full time work for a couple months during the hurly burly of a move and then a merge. After that, I had a welcome reprieve and the option to work two days a week for a year. I had rather hoped my second return to full time work would be less exciting.

My workstation overlooks the Brisbane River. Over the past few days I have watched that river steadily expand her breadth, swallowing bike paths, then ferry stops and finally onto museums, ferris wheels and city streets. Like every other person I know I have been watching in amazement as helicopters stream footage of a swamped Suncorp Stadium, suburbs submerged and the roofs of flooded buildings that are nowhere near the river. I have been sent emails and seen images on Facebook of friend's houses that were inches away from being swallowed by the relentless tide. Everyone in Brisbane would know a dozen people barely spared and another half dozen who have lost everything. Yet against this devastation the sun has been shining for the first time in weeks, coinciding with an unexpected few days off for many. Looking out on my back yard, shiny and new after weeks of rain, the sun beating down on too-long grass, it is hard to imagine the destruction only a few suburbs away.

As part of an IT team, our job is to ensure continuity of service and for the last few days that's exactly what our team has been trying to achieve. Today I was in the office and the city was a surreal. Even those that were at work were dressed casually - not a suit in sight. Families were cycling, tourists were taking photos, people lined bridges to watch the debris rush by on the wake of a rapidly receding river. The atmosphere was almost rebellious and carnival like. When I picked up Isaac from care, there were families playing at every park I passed. Older kids were riding bikes or playing games on deserted roads. There was a nostalgic kind of joy about people unexpectedly freed up to do nothing but enjoy the sunshine.

Watching the relentless stream of media, which is surely as adamant as the river herself, one would never see this other side of the flood. Instead there seems to be a focus on trying to create the most upsetting headlines. When I was trying to assess whether we would be without power, the Courier Mail's sensational headline "plunging the Brisbane CBD into darkness" was less than helpful. Instead, updates from friends in the know on Facebook were much more useful. In the end of course only portions of the CBD were without power.

Facebook has proved its worth as a communication tool, with the QLD Police providing excellent updates and many businesses (ourselves included) utilising it to communicate with their staff. It has also provided a forum for people to connect quickly with necessary donations and volunteers. The number of my friends on Facebook that have offered their homes and their help is staggering. I, like many others I know, have been cheered by the generosity of so many.

We will gather our strength as a city. We will rebuild her and we will gather around our neighbours and help them back to their feet. But we will do so with a good measure of humour and enjoy the good with the bad. Just take a look at the bronzed Wally Lewis, sporting scuba gear and floaties in front of Suncorp Stadium.

One of my friends once said to me that Brisbanites always consider their city just on the cusp of growing up, but never quite there. This might be what pushes us into adulthood.