I stepped outside on my front porch last evening and the stars were sparkling brightly against the night sky. I don't recall a time when I was more grateful to see the stars than at that moment. After three days of violent weather, it was a comforting sight, indeed.
For the record, I hate tornadoes. I grew up in a tornado-prone area and remember many nights of sleeping in the hall closet with a flashlight, disaster survival book (let me tell you, that book is dog-eared and tattered I read it so much as a kid!), pillows piled all around, and Grandpa's army helmet on my head. Keep in mind, the rest of my family did not share my level of tornado-phobic behavior, so I spent the time by myself in the closet. We definitely had the cleanest hall closet in the county because I made sure it was tidy and free of spiders in the event that I needed it for a personal storm shelter. I've witnessed two tornadoes and the aftermath of more than I care to count. When tornadoes are predicted, a sense of dread and that sick feeling of impending disaster washes over me. Any other fears I have are insignificant compared to my fear of tornadoes. I recognize the fact that I do not control the weather and that worrying will do no good. However, I still get scared, anxious, and have a strong desire to take up residence in an abandoned missile silo. Thankfully, when the storms hit here, my kind neighbors invited me to sleep in their basement.
I have learned that tornadoes give very little, if any warning, you don't hear them until they are right on top of you, and being underground is the only reasonably sure way to stay safe. They can also form on a halfway sunny day.
My heart goes out to the people who have lost family, friends, and homes in the most recent tornado outbreak. It is tragic. Even in the age of computers, radar, and hi-tech warning systems, when the force of nature decides to take the form of a mile-wide, 200 mph funnel, there is nothing we humans can do but try to get out of its way.
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