The news my old high school has not survived the February flood is both shocking and sad.
It is difficult to imagine the beautiful old building will never again have the footsteps and laughter of school kids echoing around the wooden verandas.
During my years at Richmond River High School, a few decades ago now, flooding was a part of life - about 11 floods were recorded in the six years I was there, ranging from minor to major. But none left behind the devastation experienced on February 28.
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As kids, we welcomed the prospect of an excuse to have a few days off school, but it was short-lived as on return you were met by the awful stench of floodwater that lingered for months. They were also the days when students were asked to pitch in with the onerous task of cleaning away the mud.
The beautiful old timber building had history. It became Richmond River High School in 1958, but the first buildings appeared on the site in North Lismore in the 1890s.
The school had withstood flood after flood, but in February, for the first time, floodwater surged into every classroom, stopping just a few steps short of reaching the third story library.
In its wake, only one building has been deemed potentially salvageable, and the Education Department has to consider the future viability and safety of the site.
Surprisingly, it is the oldest part of the school that may survive, it's heritage value potentially being its saving grace.
The front entrance to the school, the River Theatre topped by a bell tower, and timber classrooms did not sustain as much damage as the rest of the school, and further investigation has been sought to see if it can be saved.
Sure a better, more fit for purpose building will be built, but all that heritage will be gone and the memories of thousands of kids will go with it.
Love it, or hate it, our school years form much of our character, and the place we went almost every day for six years becomes a pretty important place in our lives.
For me, there is much history at Richmond River High School. My mum and dad both went there - it's where they met and fell in love, I went there, and my sons went there.
Many people in Lismore share that history, that connection, and share my mixed emotions about the news the school site will close.
There is so much sentiment about the building, so many memories, but the safety and what is best for future students must be considered.
Today's students are not there enjoying their school years like they should be. Instead, they face up to two years learning out of demountable buildings at someone else's school.
We don't know when another flood will come, but for a group of kids who have already missed so much school during the pandemic, perhaps the difficult decision to move is the right one.
So today, I'm thinking of my old school friends, the good times and the maybe not so good.
I'm thinking of looking for patches of sun in the art quad as the winter sun made geometric patterns on the concrete. I'm thinking of the pink fruit buns from the downstairs canteen. I'm thinking of being the lookout at the toilets. I'm thinking of the little English room where I learned how amazing words could be, and the eccentric art teacher who made us realise we were women who could achieve whatever we wanted to in life.
And one moment that seems a little poignant. Late one afternoon after sport, a storm hit. Lightning shattered the spire on the bell tower above the old hall, scattering splinters of wood to the ground below. Everyone rushed to pocket those splinters as "mementos", and I probably still have mine somewhere.
It's sad that now, it really will be a memento of a school that once was.