All this scary weather coming through in the middle of the night reminded me of when I was growing up. In my parents’ house the kids’ bedrooms were upstairs. If there was a bad thunderstorm, my mom would come wake us up in the middle of the night and make us sleep in the downstairs hall.
We’d groan and act like she was bat guano crazy, except for that one night that lightning struck the tv antenna. On the loudness scale I’d rate it between somewhere between a Tomahawk missle explosion and sonic boom. I’m pretty sure I bolted straight from my bed to the middle of the hallway in one fierce ninja move.
Of course the electrecity was out, but in the strobe-like lightening flashes I could see my sister in front of me and felt my brother breathing down my neck behind me. Nobody had to tell us to haul ass downstairs that night.
Nights like these make me glad I have a walk-out basement and the kids sleep down there. In case of tornado, they are in the safest place they can be. In case of fire, they don’t have to try to climb out a window three stories from the bottom on a rope ladder, they can walk out the door to safety.
I can rest easier knowing I’ve done the best I can to protect what’s most precious to me.
P.S. I also rest easier now that I don’t have to worry about losing my contacts in the middle of the night. For years I worried that the Russians would end the cold war with “nucular” winter and what if I lost my glasses? How would I live if I couldn’t see? LASIC surgery fixed me. Or my eyes, anyway.