Our first severe weather of the season is happening as I write. My area is not in the official tornado watch, but it's not terribly far south of here. We're due to have heavy rains, high wind, hail and who knows what other varieties of mayhem in the streets.
This kind of weather both fascinates me and scares me. I've always been a bit of a meteorology buff, and love watching and listening to thunderstorms. I enjoy tracking storms on radar. I've even considered becoming a spotter from time to time.
The part that scares me is how deadly and destructive they can be. The name "Andover" will always put a chill in my heart. We lived in Kansas for many years when my boys were little. At the time, we lived in a trailer house in the middle of the country near Manhattan. It was not tied down at all, and there was no tornado shelter. My (now ex but friendly ex) husband had our only car and worked 20 miles away at Ft. Riley and couldn't just leave every time the wind blew. The tornadoes that hit Andover in 1991 were just one of many outbreaks in those years that scared the hell out of me.
To me the definition of utter panic and fear was "What on earth do I do if a tornado comes? I have two little children, one of whom is not walking yet. I have no car. I have no friends nearby. I have no shelter. There is a ditch about 100 yards away. That ditch has big trees and power lines overhead. Now quick---be a good mommy and make a decision---what do you do?"
Thank God those days are far behind me. But I still have a healthy respect for storms. And I frankly wonder sometimes how I got from there to here with my wits intact. I made a list once of all the trauma I have dealt with, and I just shook my head and laughed. I have definitely earned the Survivor Badge.
Anyway, I digress. Stay safe out there, friends.
K
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