Last year, Aaron Parsley wrote an unforgettable first-person account of catastrophic flooding in Kerr County, Texas. After 12 inches of rain fell in under three hours, the Guadalupe River tore the Parsley family cottage off its foundation, sweeping Parsley and six family members into debris-choked floodwaters in the wee hours of July 4th, 2025. In this moving new feature for Texas Monthly, Parsley recounts what he lost that day and describes the deep appreciation for life he’s gained since the flood that took his 20-month-old nephew, Clay.
Within seconds the windows shattered, almost in unison. The walls around us split, and water rushed in from all sides. Then the river tore us away from one another and carried us into the night.
I was on a threshold—between wood and water, stillness and motion, life and death. And there in the L-shaped crook of an unremarkable tree, I began a crossing that would initially last several hours and then would continue through the following days, weeks, and months. During that time, I traveled from a disorienting, watery world to a landscape of mud and destruction. Night turned to dawn, and dawn into day. I fought through the dread of uncertainty and then learned all I ever needed to know. I experienced a loop of despair, hope, and acceptance.
More picks from Texas Monthly
“The River House Broke. We Rushed in the River.”
“On July 4, the Guadalupe ripped our home from its pillars, pulling my family into its waters and into the night. Then morning came.”
More Than 4,000 Moth Species Flit Across Texas. One Scientist Photographed 550 in His Yard.
“Smaller, more obscure moths are Curtis Eckerman’s favorites: ‘I love seeing the little jewels that you can’t normally see.’”
The Juror Who Found Herself Guilty
“‘If you didn’t do it, I would still be there.’ His voice was weak with emotion.”
