I usually love rainstorms. I love them because they have a mysterious power to make me sleep well and deeply.

Like how in the first few minutes of today, while the tornado sirens went off and the rain and wind battered on the entire west metro area, I was deep into my REM cycles and not coming up for anything.

Except for my mom gently tapping me and saying, “Honey, the sirens are going off. We need to go downstairs.” In the back of my mind, I was thankful that she was concerned for my welfare.

I unplugged my phone and took it with me as I walked the familiar path downstairs with my eyes mostly closed. Midway down the stairs I realized I’d brought my stuffed bunny with me. He’d just stayed nestled in my elbow, where he had been before. Yep, I’m an adult.

The bathroom is the only room downstairs that doesn’t have windows, since we don’t actually have a basement. But it was occupied when we got down there, so we tired women just sat down behind the couch, hoping in the event of breaking glass that would be enough to protect us.

I am not often irrationally angry, but I can be very much so when awoken in the middle of the night or when awake and without coffee. I found myself huffing as I lay on the floor listening to the news lady say over and over again where the storm was, for all the people who were just tuning in. Yes, we know. Counting down until the tornado warning is past. 5 minutes. Oh, it’s over but I have to stay here? NO. Okay. But as soon as I hear the wind die down a little bit, I’m going back to bed.

And of course, since the wind was whipping at many many miles per hour, the signal kept going out, so the tv flashed its bright light into the room over and over again. I tried to stay in my sleepy state, glad to have brought a soft thing to lay my head on, because I wasn’t about to get up and find another pillow.

We lay there for 45 minutes until the most imminent danger was gone, and I decided it was worth it to be in my bed. I’m a little worried that I would not be concerned about intruders in my home if it meant I had to get out of bed. Or fire. Hopefully adrenaline would come to the rescue in those cases.

The good news is that we’re all okay, except the trees on our street took a little beating. But they’re old and hearty, and they’ll recover.


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