Sober

Twenty people died last night. They were caught in the same storm that came through here at about six this morning. I woke up to my alarm and a tornado siren, and the wind ripping around this flimsy college-kid trailer that the sibthings and I call home.

I'm pulling them out of bed and making them get dressed, and the next thing you know, the lady from across the street is staggering over through the storm to tell us that there's a tornado and we need to go to the dorm. It sounded like a plan to me, since I could see the thick red line galloping across the radar screen, fifteen minutes out. So we showed up to sit in the lobby for twenty minutes, until the wind died down enough to go home. At first, I was disgruntled because of all the unnecessary fuss.

Turns out, that same storm had been moving east across the southern states and had already claimed several victims. It didn't actually touch down in Ooltewah, but the eye passed right over us. And I wonder what we would have done, what I would have had to do, if things were just a little bit different.

Life is such an easy thing to lose.