Tornado. The word strikes fear in most people, but when you live in a region that sees a lot of them, you learn. Outsiders already thought us ignorant for staying, so we didn’t have anything to lose by giving ours a nickname. “Our T,” we called him.
You learn to adapt. Go underground, wait. Come up when it’s over. Survey the damage. Rebuild. Expect the pattern to repeat. Mama said you can’t expect a creature to be anything other than what it is. “Our T’s just wind,” she said, “can’t help himself.”
He had only touched down three times while we lived there. Mama remembered a few more. “Where is he now?” we would ask, under the open sky of the former living room.
“Beats me,” she said. “Greener pastures, maybe. Stratosphere.” We rebuilt the roof, went back to our lives, most of which involved restoring or maintaining a semblance of order until the next strike.
Our T. had a sense of humor, though. In between visits, he’d drop these notes in our mailbox: That was fun, wasn’t it? And how is everyone? Peaceful, I hope! We’d roll our eyes at the old one-liners, but we had to laugh.
“Atmospheric systems don’t have a word for aftermath,” Mama would remind us. That was something only the grounded knew, especially those of us in the habit of staying. “Now bring me that hammer,” she would add, pointing with her chin to a corner, “and that box of nails.”
I’m going to ship my husband to you. Tornadoes fascinate him and he wants to chase them. Well he did when he was younger. 😋😆😃
OMG Thank you for this. This is the funniest response I’ve ever received and I needed to laugh. Wishing you a wonderful weekend! : )
You’re welcome! Does this mean I can put him on the next plane? Haha
Do you need prayer besides a laugh?
I will never refuse a prayer, and will always send more forward in kind. Thank you! : )
Thanks! Unless you tell me something specific, I will ask God to hear your heart and direct what He needs from you. I didn’t try to write those words, it just came out so I hope it is a good prayer.
I love that prayer. Thank you!