Tornado!

This past weekend I experienced my third tornado since moving to the Deep South. This was, by far, the closest call.
When I first moved down here, within the first few months we had a tornado touch down pretty close to where I was living. It wasn't really that close -- I was never in any danger, but I had a great view of the town, and the storm, below my apartment on a hill. I was amazed by the color of the sky, the noise of the storm, the force of the wind. I was drawn out to the deck to watch the funnel cloud in the distance, but I couldn't see it. Friends watching the story unfold on the television threw a fit when they found me outside standing alone in the storm. I didn't realize how dangerous the storm could be.
During that same Spring, on a long drive home visiting my Wonderful Wife while she was working in Raleigh, I got caught in a flash storm. On a long stretch of empty road I found myself barely able to drive 10 miles an hour because the rain was coming down too hard. I was acutely aware of the green colored sky and scanned the radio for news of the storm. What I could hear through the static of an AM Radio station confirmed what I already knew to be true: a tornado was near. As the hail started to fall I finally found the shelter of a gas station's roof. Feeling brave, I got out of my car and headed into the store for some snacks. Sideways falling rain had be soaked before I made it to the store's entrance.
I still haven't had a bad experience with a tornado, thank goodness, but this weekend was a lot closer than I ever want to come again.
I spent the past weekend at home with only Little Sis to keep me company. My Wonderful Wife took Bubba to San Francisco so that they could attend the wedding of one of her best friends. Little Sis and I had a great time all weekend, but that is another story all together.
At 3:30 AM on Saturday morning, the tornado siren went off. It was a complete coincidence that I even heard it -- earlier that night I decided that it was warm enough for the first time this year to open the bedroom window. I am a pretty heavy sleeper, but that sound woke me up. I didn't exactly remember what the siren was for at the time so I dozed off. A few minutes later I sat straight up in bed when I was awakened by the familiar sound of hail. I remembered what the siren was for. The wind was picking up, noisier than I remember the usual thunderstorms being. It was actually so loud that I felt my heart race a little.
Calm down, I told myself, what is it that I have to do here? Go get my kid.
I quickly entered her room and scooped her up in my arms. As I was turning to head downstairs, I stopped and grabbed her sock monkey. I am not sure if I grabbed it for me or for her. I gave it to her. Still (mostly) asleep, she hugged it instinctively, and I held her tightly with both arms.
Down two long flights of steps to the basement. Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall.
At the bottom of the basement staircase I stood for a moment listening again to the sound of the wind pushing against my house. The noise of the tornado was getting louder, closer. I look around for a good hiding spot and decide that the best spot is actually at the foot of the staircase, where both corners of the basement are fully below ground.
The lights flickered once and went out. Not great. Losing power made the storm feel even closer. As if it was an answer to my failing nerve, the lights came back on. We are going to make it.
We live in a twenty-year-old house. It is a great home, lots of character, and not outdated feeling since we changed some of the paint and removed all the wallpaper. With some of the updates we have done, it is sometimes easy to forget that it is that old (with all the recent development in the area, twenty years is ancient). This storm made the house sound weak and thin. It was as if that house was at the chiropractor and the storm was cracking every old bone in the house. The wind was relentless and it rattled walls and windows for twenty long minutes.
Then, without flourish, the storm quieted down to where I could barely hear it over the quiet rainfall.
With Big Sis still (mostly) asleep, I loosened my lock-grip on her and stood up. Exhausted, I carry her up the stairs back to her room. Laying her down in her bed, her eyes immediately flip open. "Watch Tee-Vee?" OK, kid. Whatever you want. I am too spent to argue.
I brought her into my room, set her in the middle of my huge bed, resting her head on thick king-size pillows. She looked tiny under the enormous down comforter. "Watch Tee-Vee?" You got it, kid. But it's gonna be the Weather Channel... hope you don't mind.
Five minutes later, forty-five long minutes after I had first heard the siren, the T.V. was turned off and we were both quickly asleep, safe out of the path of the storm.