Storms

I guess you can say that I am a total "chicken" when it comes to bad weather. I've been that way as long as I can remember, but then again, I was always a scaredy-cat of a child. Growing up, we always had at least one bad tornado scare each semester of school. I remember huddling in the halls, hearing the whispers of my scared friends, and listening to the teachers talk on walkie-talkies as the principal gave them the latest weather update. We would hear the name of a community, and all of us would start our own little panicked conversations: "I have a friend that lives in Kimberly" or "Our house is in Brookside." Most of these tornado drills (which, I guess weren't really "drills") seemed to also include tears, frantic drives home in the rain, and lifted prayers as we were all kneeling in the hallway outside our classrooms. It's amazing how certain events seem to stick with you as you grow up. I remember one time when I was in fourth grade, kneeling in the hallway by a window-surrounded doorway (which was supposed to be "safer" than our classrooms, uh no). I huddled there by my best friends, and we quietly shared our fears as we tried our best to hear what was being said by the teachers as they passed along information. I remember tears, I remember being scared, and I remember that they weren't letting children leave the school even though it was right at 3pm. They changed their minds, and let the parents come inside to check their children out of school. My mom was one of those parents. I remember hearing my name and my sister's name over the walkie-talkies. I remember walking down the hall with a teacher while all the other students stayed huddled into balls against the walls, and I remember seeing my mom at the front office. And that's it. I don't remember anything after that...probably because from that moment on, I was safe. I was with my mom and my sister, and I was safe and secure. I remember another time or two in high school. I remember Mrs. Dorothy Taylor (the scariest, yet most amazing teacher in the whole school) sitting in a chair by the double doors that led out to the parking lot. The wind outside was actually pulling the doors open, and she would close them and use her humor or a threat to "take someone out to the parking lot" to calm our nerves. Another time, I remember opening double doors as well, but it was on the other side of the school. Ashley and I were trying our best to conceal our cell phones as we frantically tried to call our mom since we had overheard someone mention our neighborhood on the walkie talkies. I remember the ride home that time. We had to take detours around fallen trees and downed power lines. I actually remember the sights on that trip home...I guess I didn't feel safe until we actually got home. I guess this post just goes to show that I am as long-winded as they come. I started this post to make a simple point, but I think I have beat it into the ground. I'm a chicken when it comes to storms, but I believe I have a right to be so. Growing up, we dealt with floods, severe weather, tons of tornado "drills" at school, and even damage to our home in one way or another. Even now, being 26 years old, married, and a mother...I am scared of storms. The mere mention of tornado warnings just fills me with anxiety. I close the sunroom doors so I can't see the lightning and the trees blowing. I turn the TV to the local weather station and make sure to check on Josh (since he is usually on a 24 hour shift when the bad weather hits...what luck!). Storms just make me uneasy, but eventually they pass, and I get to curl out of my huddled up ball and be thankful that this isn't a night that will forever be engrained in my mind because I am safe at home.