The Great Tiny Closet Flood of ‘08 

In her first book, writer Melanie Lutz takes readers on a spiritual journey of self discovery in a written self portrait of a year spent healing her soul after divorce. Melanie shares her story of walking out of her life, waking up to herself, and how she learned to love letting go.

Excerpt from Chapter One...

Sometimes it is the simplest sayings that become the most profound.

Topping the list.

Home is where the heart is.

Laying bare the truth.

The truth of who we are.

Through whatever old wounds long forgotten.

Lying in a box pushed out of the light.

Waiting for the call.

To come into knowing.

And remember.

There are events in our lives, some big, some small, some irritating, some enlightening. The great tiny closet flood of '08 was all of these.

A pipe burst behind the wall of my utility closet turning a major storage area into a wading pool, water logging box after box of my hard to throw away unreviewed memory clutter.

After cursing through the disruption in my routine, I joggled through the cobwebs and disintegrated cardboard, breathing in the must of the untouched. It was unpleasant but

I have to say, I found some peace in the clean up. I salvaged what I could from the soggy stew of box carnage, there wasn't much, a beautiful paper butterfly from some memorable event, a note from an old boyfriend that always made me smile, a few other mel-mentos here and there. By and large, it was almost a complete cleansing of the past.


On the way to the trash bins an old hard card Polaroid of adorable little me, at five years old, perfectly in tact, wholly clean of any flood damage, fell to the cement.

When you think Polaroid. You think moment in time. You've captured something, because you can hold it in your hand. Instantly. And. In many cases forever.

This moment held much more than that.

I always marveled at how this picture from childhood held a special place in my heart, evoking a charge of some kind. It was ethereal. I was leaning against a one rail fence, hair blowing, legs crossed, bare footed, flowing into an endless background of greens. It was a cool picture of a confident independent little girl.

In honor of its survival I put it on my desk, propped up against a green key jar. Where it sat, staring at me, until the day it decided to speak, just above a whisper.

"Turn me over"

Reaching across my desk to the hard thick old Polaroid, feeling heavy and at the same time significant. I flipped it over, revealing two handwritten words and a date.

LAKE TRIP (1972) over the faded factory printing:  An Original Polaroid Land Photograph (printed in the USA)

Light bulb. Spark. Recognition. Trauma.

There was a ripple in the air.

This was taken the day I died.

--  End of excerpt…

(The Bare Melcessities is available through various retailers including buy the book.)