WOWZA!!!

ALL of these this morning, it seemed:

But Thank Heavens not this one:

We've had the stormiest morning since we lived in Mississippi!! The whole city was under Tornado Warnings for an hour or so, and lots of Watches and big red angry swatches on the radar, like patches of flaming heatrash just inciting rebellion and chaos, and due to erupt into mayhem. And the sirens---they screamed and blared and blatted until you could hardly hear the Weatherman talk. We've always applauded the Friday siren, for it means they're Keeping Us Safe, and so our little ones will not be afraid of it; today our hands and "Yaaaay!" got quite a workout.

Images of flung-about debris and that ratty old Kansas house whirling in the vortex and eye-of-the-storm and straw-through-a-board littered my scampering mind like carnival sideshows foist on captive audiences. I never QUITE reached the Hen-In-A-Jug level, for I could not comprehend that it might hit HERE. I think it's because I've never, ever seen a picture of an actual city of high-rises damaged by a tornado. In my meager experience, it just seems as if the whirling juggernauts all affect the flattish, unencumbered lands of less-than-three stories, for some reason.

Of course, we're just a little outlying subdivision, and several of those have had unimaginable damage during the twenty years we've lived here; you can drive through one of the areas from several years ago, and still see the twisted, nakedly-flensed areas on the trees which were wrenched into gnarl like twisting the greens off turnips.

I KNEW I could get that big foam mattress down these stairs and into that huge windowless bathroom, with its tile-armored floor, ceiling, and walls.

We said a little prayer at the breakfast table, and I muttered fervent ones off and on all morning, til the great red cloud on the map passed over. And we are grateful---for the great flurries of leaves dotting the grass, for the tiny pink and purple doll-bed thrown quilt-over-teakettle against the grill, and that the bits and pieces were ALREADY bits and pieces, rather than parts created from wholes, crushed and torn apart by the storm.

And now the sky is clearing, the windows open to the fresh clean dampness of the air, Our Girl safely singing herself to naptime, and the kitchen filled with the ordinary scents of collards and orange cleaning-spray. Gratitude in my heart is the major element of all the aftermath, and weathered the storm a heartfelt prayer of thanks. We're safe---all six of us, scattered all over town. Safe.

Ordinary is quite good enough. Ordinary is just perfect.