Keep the phone.
Snatch a banana.
Grab shoes, and some socks.
Throw pillows in the closet.
Pull the door shut!
Huddle and text.
That's what I did.
They said there was a tornado near me.
Strange.
Strange that I never thought of I.D.
After awhile, with my friend's texting, and another one checking on me, it was weirdly amazing how comfy I felt!
There I slayed - Ian's word, my youngest son. He says it means reclining with legs straight out in front of you; not sitting, not laying, but slaying. There I was slaying against two comfy orange bed pillows, closeted in a
3 x 4 space, in the dark, and listening.
Mostly to the wind.
There was the jingle-jangle of the applicances going off and on.
Near the refrigerator some thing did a happy sing-song.
Then all power went out.
As if it was in my front yard, I could hear the blaring of the warning alarm from the county seat 6 miles away. LOUD. INTRUSIVE. DISTURBING.
And that wind! Oh, it thrust by the house with slamming rain and the sounds of a roaring train! I'd heard that sound before in the early 60's when I was 8 years old. There were no railroad tracks near us. There were tracks at grandma's house in Kentucky, but not near us. I knew that sound. But that 60's train was coming towards us across a corn field! That didn't make sense.
Dad said it was a tornado!
And, that we 3 kids had to sit in the V of the T shaped red brick house until it passed! The neighbors' lost their house, but we were spared.
Until my friend called I had no clue a tornado was near! Turns out there were two!!! Oblivion has it's own silver lining - there's no anxiety, wariness, or fear beforehand.
Her text coincided with the city's outdoor warning siren. The county practices it every Friday at 11:00 to ensure all is working well, so I knew what it was.
And there I slayed, warm and cozy, in the dark of night, oblivious to danger, and feeling loved from friends, texting!
"Don't open that door!"
