By Emily Stonehouse

We all watched the waters rise this past week. And while it’s not necessarily something new, it still feels like a gut punch to the community every time it happens.

Minden Mayor Bob Carter referred to floods as “watching a trainwreck,” noting that the slow and gradual pain of watching the river creep into the crevices of the town is largely beyond our own control.

It’s drastically different from the ice storm that slammed the county this time last year; a sudden and whooshing impact that left us a whole new level of dazed and confused.

Instead, a flood is like holding our breath. Each day, each moment, each hour, a little different. Sometimes the water levels waver every so slightly; a sprinkling of hope filling our hearts. Other times, a deluge of splashes adds new ticks to a growing meter; memories of adding lines and squiggles onto your kids’ growth chart, but this time, up is worse than down.

It’s during these times, that we must take a moment for Minden.

Now I will be the first to say we should break down the barriers between Haliburton and Minden. The long, glorified beef of the two townships has had its place in history books since the early days of county formation. You’ll see in these pages of our papers, I have made an effort to blur the arbitrary lines of the communities; ushering in the significance of acknowledging that we all bleed red.

But having lived in both communities, I know that there are differences.

Minden is resilient. It has to be. Built on a patchwork of land that nowadays would be deemed a floodplain, unfit for development, it has stood strong.

Year after year, flood after flood.

And experiencing a flood in real time is something that many see on social media, but until you’re there, with your yellow boots deep in the murkiness of what was once a hustling and bustling street, it’s difficult to truly understand.

While the people of Minden hold their breath, waiting, wondering about the waters, they don’t push pause.

If anything, they do the exact opposite. Leaders are formed, delegations take place. Volunteers readily and dutifully fill in the gaps for those in need, connecting the dots of the community.

There’s a palpable energy that floats to the surface. And while there’s a stillness in waiting for what’s next, there’s a buzz that keeps momentum flowing.

Because when all this dies down, when the news trucks and reporters and social media specialists return to their work desks, the only thing left in the puddles of the past, are the people of Minden.

Let’s remember this. Let’s remember who showed up, which businesses offered a hand, which organizations prioritized the populations. We need to support a community that had to put profits on pause in the name of people, navigated challenges unseen, both professionally and personally.

When the waters start to recede – and they will, they always do – we need to see what’s left, who’s still standing, and how we can support a community that has spent the past few weeks holding their breath.

To remind them that they’re safe, they’re seen, and they can breathe again.