Storms have always been a fear of mine. As a storm is fast approaching, I consider the other storms that have gone before. I remember a tornado when I was in college that tore apart my hometown and wrecked landmarks left and right. Friends lost everything they had as the storm ripped their dorms apart. The thing I remember most is that I was doing a research project with rats. Because the buildings were not declared “safe” yet, they wouldn’t let me in to feed them or check on them and they ate each other. It was like something out of 1984. Very traumatic.
Fast forward to Hurricane Elvis while I was in medical school at UT. I remember walking over a breezeway going toward The Med watching the storm hit. We didn’t have much damage, but we didn’t have power for two weeks. I slept and showered at the children’s hospital where I was on rotation. We ate like kings at our apartment complex because everyone had to grill the meat from their refrigerators. Then, about a week in, my brother who had gone to stay at my mom’s in the air conditioning called to say he had left “a few things” in his refrigerator and could I go clean it out. Oh Mother of Mercy. A few things was basically a whole hog and possibly half a cow, rotted for a week in the Memphis heat. Again, traumatic.
Then there was residency. A tornado rolled right down our street taking the windows, siding and roof on one side of my house. I remember laying on the floor and hoping and praying that the storm would pass us by. It did, by about 20 feet. It picked up the roof of our house and set it back down, cracking most of the rafters. We walked through debris in stunned silence that night helping neighbors crawl out of their demolished homes. I remember the fear after it passed of not knowing if it was really over, or if we were still in the “eye” and another round was coming. Also, traumatic.
Last week we all slept as a family in our “storm room” as another storm was bearing down. I was lying there awake with Baby Bird nestled onto my chest as I was trying to avoid hearing the roar that is my husband’s snore. I noticed as he started snoring, that Z, my three-year old, was laying on his back. She was sucking her thumb with one eye open. About the time I would get really annoyed with Daddy’s snoring to the point I was about to kick him, sweet Z would reach over and yank his ear really hard. He responded by grunting and a temporary cessation to his snoring. I observed this three or four times to ensure it wasn’t a fluke. I. Love. that. kid.
Tonight, we are in the storm room again, praying for safety for all, lucky to have a “storm room”. Wonder what this storm holds?