Windy After Midnight

You know what I appreciate about the tornadoes that have visited our area since I've lived in Murfreesboro?  Daylight.  They all occurred when the sun sat high in the sky: that it was obscured by stormclouds matters not.  There's something about seeing the enemy approaching, or at least the chance to assess the damage immediately upon the enemies' departure, that is comforting . . . as odd as that sounds.  But maybe not so odd when one considers how the landscape changes under cover of darkness.  Peeking out yields no hint of what is to come, what is possibly just outside the front door.  And in the wake of the attack, there is so way to adequately assess the loss, the scope of the destruction or even the lack thereof.  Darkness allows the mind to wander far beyond the gates of reality and into the avenues of maddening imagination.

This is my second night of sleeping, or camping out, in our living room with the television tuned to Channel 4 and their live doppler radar coverage of thunderstorm and tornadic activity, my eldest daughter snuggled on the couch with Hank the Wonder Pup (who is snoring with impressive force) at her feet and Panda Girl on the floor.  (Her arthritis wouldn't allow her to hop up onto our worn leather sofa even if she desired to do so.)  This is the fourth day that our pantry has disgorged much of its contents to make room for the mammalian residents of the larger home surrounding it.  This is the fourth day that my file of personal records -- birth certificates and the like -- has joined the external hard drive which holds our digital photo library in a recycled Victoria's Secret bag in the corner of the emptied pantry.  A heavy duty flashlight, purses, my laptop, Zach's Nook, the iPhone, rubber boots and car keys round out the emergency items.  The small kennel for Quill the Kitten-Cat awaits possible use as we must minimize stress in small spaces during such majorly stressful events.

I'm prepared to run over to my neighbor's house and ring the holy heck out of her doorbell if a warning for our county is announced -- she forgot her cell phone at work and has no house phone.  My husband and son are sawing their own individual logs with true Zzzzzzzzz force because they can afford the luxury of sleeping soundly and worry free.  Why not?  They've got mama staying alert and informed for them.  If all goes well, I'll eke out a nap later today.  If there is any cause to call insurance and move in with a relative, there's always coffee and adrenaline!  I have to say that I much prefer to experience a tornado, daytime or nighttime, with my family around me.  If we're gonna go, better to go together.  If we survive, ditto.  In fact, the entire time I'm busy being practical in the face of possible natural disaster, I'm also scribbling a few items onto my grocery list on the fridge.  And brushing my teeth and washing my face.  And thinking about the e-mail I need to send out on Tuesday for the wrestling event on Saturday.  Acts of faith.

I'm not paranoid or overreactive.  Any of you who have emerged on the other side of a tornado, whether you were directly affected or not, know of what I write.  Once you've seen trees snapped in two, jagged edges scratching the surface of the sky, or homes rendered unto rubble and waste, or the lifeless bodies of a mother and infant retrieved from what seems all the world like a war zone, you think it wise to over-prepare for nothing, and return the pantry to its former state of full, than to dismiss the approach of a fast-moving front and find yourself face-to-face with a rising and falling wall of furious wind. 

Earlier tonight, my son and I watched Brad Pitt and cast deliver a homerun performance in "Moneyball."  Right before the weather began to get a little testy.  While I do recommend you catch the movie before the Oscars hit, that's not why I bring it up.  The mother and child I mentioned earlier?  They left behind a husband and father.  He was separated from them by the tornado, yanked away and tossed like a rag dog on the road in front of their home, breaking his back and rendering him blessedly unconscious as his little family was destroyed.  I didn't see him after that day until a memorial ceremony one year later on the day of our Good Friday tornadoes.  He unveiled a plaque which outlined what happened the day his life was altered forever.  And I remember thinking that he reminded me of Brad Pitt.  That's all.

Well.  It appears that our area has been removed from the tornado watch area.  The rains have arrived but it that is all with which we must contend.  Phew.  I'm good with that.  It's 2AM!  The wind is now howling but howl on.  Howl on.  I'm logging off and going to try sawing my own logs.  Hank's not the only one who can snore with gusto in this house.

Or so I'm told.  So here's to the varied winds which can occur . . . after midnight.