Or perhaps I should clarify: I saw a giant spinning wall of water of biblical proportions which I have since discovered was the edge of said tornado. Needless to say I grabbed the pets, my husband, and rushed everyone into our apartment’s 4'x4' half bath. The strange part was that despite being scared, everyone (including the pets) was surprisingly calm. What could you do? It didn’t seem real.

 

Through the thin walls of sheet rock, decaying insulation, and wood siding, we could hear the storm repeatedly bashing itself against our patio. Furniture scrapped along the cement flooring and something slapped angrily against our glass patio doors and let out a howl. But we sat. And we waited. Squatting on the world’s coldest tile floor, I held my husband's hand. He was seated on the toilet seat, one hand wrapped around the dog's collar, the other furiously typing on the laptop balanced on his knees. Through some strange miracle of science, we still had internet and he was determined log onto the weather channel and see how long the storm was predicted to last. It's amazing what the mind will do to feel as though it has some sense of control during chaos. Above us the bathroom lights flickered and danced about, but thankfully fought to stay on. The half bath has no windows and the last thing I wanted was to be plummeted into total darkness as this pressed on.

 

At moments like this people will tell you how they prayed and held one another, yet few actually say what they prayed for. My prayers were of course typical me. With the exception of a quick Lord's prayer to start, the only thing repeating in my mind was, "please…please God, don’t let me die next to the cat litter box."

 

Eventually this too passed. The slapping stopped first, then the howl died away. We peeked out the bathroom door fully expecting the kitchen to be in shambles and relieved to see that all of the glass had held up. What was truly surprising was that the patio looked fine. The furniture had shifted maybe a foot or two, but nothing more damaging than when I would get an urge to remodel. The covers on our grill had shifted, but remained mostly in place. The slapping sound was actually a tarp that had blown into our yard and stuck itself against the windows, it too seemed to be in good shape, but i had no idea who to return it to. Overall I was pretty please, until I looked out across the yard and saw that not one, but THREE of our neighbor’s oldest trees had uprooted.

The tornado had indeed rolled through the back yard, choosing to skip our apartment complex, and create a neighborhood tree holocaust instead. Few of our large trees escape with zero damage. Many I’m sure will have to be cut up and carted away. This saddens me, but I can’t help but smile.

 

Why?

 

Because not 10 minutes after the storm, the neighborhood was alive. While lightning continued to crackle through the skies, the people arrived. Everyone wanted to know if everyone else was ok. Folks were introducing themselves to one another and shaking hands with people whom they had lived near for months, or years. It was amazing. I learned that one of my neighbors was a retired nurse from the same hospital my grandmother worked at years ago. I discovered that another neighbor works with some friends of mine.

 

Having enjoyed our chat with our immediate neighbors, my husband and I grabbed the dog and began to walk the neighborhood. We saw people cleaning up their neighbor’s yards because they (the homeowner) were trapped at work. Others were driving in from outside of the area with chainsaws ready. We even saw a group of people laughing and discussing how they were going to have a hell of a bonfire and that the other should bring the beer.

Community was happening. Cellphones were put away (they were useless anyway, most of the towers were out of order), handshakes were exchanged and everywhere we went we heard people cracking jokes or trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

 

That evening we dropped by our friend's home up the street and together we stood around looking at the tree that had landed on the corner of her roof, taking out her fence and ripping off a patch of roof shingles. I thought for sure we would have to console her, but instead she and her husband were as jolly as ever. "I'm sorry my fence had to bite the dust to see you guys, but I'm awfully glad you came by." she said passing me her toddler. I laughed and agreed. Sometimes it does seem like only an act of God can get us to all come together.