So, here I am again.
Let me tell you, whatever this germ is that has assaulted my insides over the past two days, IT WINS. I have never been so miserable. Well, wait. The last time I was this miserable I was eight months pregnant and had the flu. That was bad.
But this, this has been awful. I took finals last night in a cold sweat and just prayed I wouldn’t hurl on the table. Or poop myself. Or both. And while I think I may be over it and Lucy didn’t seem to have it quite as bad, Josh has it now. Everyone knows that when the man gets sick the world is ending.
It snowed last night. There was a big uproar because we were under a WINTER STORM WARNING. The pink and blue on the radar was very promising indeed.
So, I mentioned in a post not long ago that I love storms.
I do. I watch and wait, and I’m always disappointed. I don’t know what it is I look for, or what would keep me from being disappointed. I don’t know where the line is that I would say, “Whoa, that’s too much.”
Well, I didn’t before yesterday.
It’s kind of shameful for me to admit, but I don’t think I’ve ever had reason to truly be afraid. Not of storms. I read Twitter feeds and Facebook statuses about “Oh laws, the storm’s a comin’, let’s take shelter!”
Maybe it’s because we never really did much in the way of storm safety at the Wilkes House while I was growing up. No one paid much attention, beyond the blinking warnings on the bottom of Full House or The Cosby Show, and storms were a part of life.
Maybe it’s because I have a weird adrenaline deficiency and I will probably take up extreme sports one day.
Yesterday, after the storms that had swept through the South over the past few days, we piled into the car to go check on some friends we knew had taken some damage.
And you guys…damn.
Trees bigger than our car – snapped. Not uprooted, snapped.
A barn was ripped in half.
An adorable vintage VW Beetle had its top ripped off.
Houses with rooftops missing.
I grew up in the South and I’ve seen storm damage my whole life. Never has it been so real. I feel like I’ve been living in some sort of calloused, apathetic shell. I realized today that I’ve spent my lifetime gambling against these storms. I was never afraid because some sort of invincibility delusion has apparently secretly taken up residence in the dumbest regions of my brain.
We arrived at our friends’ house, where not only had five or six 200-year-old trees been felled, but the wind had driven a stake from the attic supports through the master bedroom ceiling – aimed directly at the head of the bed.
They kept saying how lucky they were, how things could have been so much worse.
And they could have. No one was hurt, and what a miracle.
I can’t say that I’m going to dread storms now, or that I won’t be still a little eager the next time there’s some warning…
But I can say that I have a newfound, healthy respect for what the weather can do. And maybe I won’t wait so long to camp out in the hallway.