This morning as I took Miss Sophie out for her morning constitutional, we came across a bird’s nest laying on the grass. It was a solid one too. I turned it over, curious if there were any residents who hadn’t made it out safely, and there were none. I was thankful for that.
I could just imagine the little bird family who once lived there being interviewed by channel CHRP newsbirds.
“Yes, well, we’d just gotten our children all loaded up and off to their new homes on their own, so we decided to take a small trip together–just the two of us. It’s been a while, you know. So when we got back, bam. Our house was destroyed. Blown away by the Big Storm. We didn’t know what to think. We were just glad no one was home.”
Because interviews like that really have happened around here. A Georgia storm can come up from out of nowhere and pass just as quickly.
We had a pretty powerful storm pass through here yesterday. Georgia. Where you can wait out a thunderstorm for five minutes and then the sun pops out and the only way you know for sure that it rained is the steam rising from the driveway. I guess this one lasted longer than five minutes though, because it was pretty severe there for a little bit. Especially when it knocked that nest out of its tree.
I don’t think I knew enough to be afraid of storms until the big tornado came through here in the early 70’s. I remember hearing about it less than an hour after it happened, when Daddy took me through the drive-thru at Nu-Way. And of course, the sun was shining again. What really stayed with me (and this is the truth my very young self remembers) is something about the tornado going by my great grandparents’ house and being thankful they weren’t home.
The tornado almost got people I love.
That’s when I started fearing them. It probably coincided with me starting school and having tornado drills. Those were enough to put the fear in me for sure.
I remember asking Daddy about the wisdom of getting in a ditch if I found myself on the road and a tornado came along.
“But Daddy, what if there’s a snake in the ditch? What do I do then?”
“Well, Tara,” he said, in his slow, distinct way, “I reckon you just figure it’s your time.”
That’s pretty much the same thing he told the assessment nurse who came out to see if their living situation was okay for Daddy to manage after he broke his hip and wasn’t very mobile. When she asked what they would do if the house were to catch on fire or a tornado were coming or something like that where they needed to evacuate, he told her the same thing.
“I reckon I’ll know it’s my time.”
I guess over the years, I’ve grown to respect storms and not fear them so much. They are amazing to watch, and then–in a moment–they can be over. Leaving little to no debris or wrecking entire homes–of birds and people. Tonight I’m thankful that I was in a safe place with friends with a good cup of coffee when that storm hit yesterday. I’m also glad that no birds were injured from that little nest, and that they’d all already flown the coop. Most of all, I’m thankful I can still hear my Daddy’s voice and smile at the memories we have together. From the worst of storms to the sunniest of days. As long as I was with him, all was well.
Wishing you all sunny skies and cool breezes.
Love to all.