Overturned....

Somber. That is how I'd describe today using one word. Somber. A tornado ripped through the north part of our small town last night. Around 6:00 last night I was giving Presley a bath. Shawn had just turned on the tv and asked "which is the bad one? A tornado watch or a warning". I continued to watch little Pres splash her way back and forth from the foot of the tub to the head of the tub, then back again. "A warning. That means they've actually seen one in the county." "Oh. Then we are under a warning right now." Calm as that he said it. We've lived here 8 years and only had 1 other warning. Tornadoes always go around us. We are invincible. As calmly as he mentioned it, I said "I guess we better get in the basement then." Shawn headed downstairs. The kids were already there doing what they always do. Me? I finished up lotioning down Presley, diapering, and getting her in pajamas. Then I headed down. Calm as can be. Only. I didn't know that this time the warnings were so significant. While I was pulling pajamas over the body of a wriggly baby Jim Robertson's dealership was being torn apart. Car by car. Flipping. Dumping. Smashing. Then the Lakeside neighborhood where all the fancy homes are. Ripped to shreds. Then the street of Bobwhite lined with duplex's. Homes invaded. All while I sauntered slowly down the stairs into my basement. So fast. Lives in upheaval. Turned on a dime. So fast. Some friends of ours called to see if they could come hang out in our basement should any more storms occur. To me it was just like having some friends over on a regular Wednesday night. Playing Wii, watching the news, talking. All while the people just north of us were watching their lives unravel in the blink of an eye. The news station was out so we were getting zero information. Rumors were spreading like wildfire by cell phone. Making sure the ones we are closest too were fine. And they all were. Minus a few shingles, and being separated from a child for the evening. Everyone was alive. And fine. At 10:00 after our kids were tucked safely in their beds because the storm threat was gone, the news station was back running local news. They were interviewing a few victims. One man and woman were glad to be alive. When they interviewed the owner of Jim Robertson dealership, the anchor man said "At least you are all alive, right?" The owner paused. And he had this look on his face. Then he said, "Yeah, but...." and then he backed away from the camera. I finished his sentence in my head. "yeah, but everything I've worked my entire life to build. All the hours I've put in making this dealership successful. All the paperwork, employees, my lively hood. Gone. We are alive, but everything is gone." That is what I would have wanted to say. Ethan was talking to me this morning and saying how it's okay because they all still have their jobs and they can just pay to put everything back together. So simple. In my mind it isn't about the money. It's the invasion. How one minute all is well and then poof. Gone. Invaded. Destroyed. Everything you've worked your whole life to build up is taken away. Do you have the energy to spend the rest of your life re-building what you had already spent so much time building the first time? Frustrating. Sad. Overwhelming. The town is really rallying together to help those directly affected. I was just in Walmart and everyone knows what I know. Everyone I passed looked into my eyes with that same knowing look. We are okay. But there are those that aren't. Somber. That is the word I'd use to describe today. The day after disaster. Somber.