when I carried my two-year-old daughter and her tricycle home from the park. Her legs, galoshes swinging, straddled my pregnant belly. One small rubber tricycle wheel bumped against my shin with each step; the other spun on its axle. At that moment, I didn’t know about atmospheric rivers, about the flooding that would devastate Whatcom County. I only knew that it was raining, and my little fox wasn’t feeling well. My arms were wrapped around her orange raincoat; its tail flicked back and forth. She rested her head on my shoulder,
