welcome to tornado season. welcome to alabama. welcome to my highest fear. i called my dad earlier, told him i was scared and wished nothing more than to be in my basement at home. i climbed under my desk one more time to unplug my computer, then i rushed off to school, figuring i'd be safer there than here in my 3rd story apartment. rain poured, roads flooded, sirens sounded. i walked to class, with my tornado pack (those valuable items i could never replace) on my back. i felt like i was running away from bombs, that's the only way the sound of the tornado warning sirens can be described. i sat in class, the safest classroom on campus -- while my professor rambled on about tornados he'd survived. "it came a mile from our house," he said. i kept thinking of the one that came a block or so away from mine so many years before. the one that afterwards, my dad and i walked down "ground zero" looking for my brother's car... hoping we wouldn't find it (or him, who left me alone at home minutes before it struck) among the destruction -- the age of 13, i had no clue what we'd find, and i didn't realize that for the rest of my life i'd jump at the boom of thunder in fear of hearing a tornado ripping apart my city.

after class, i listened to news on the radio that a tornado must have struck the water plant, less than a mile from my apartment. thankfully nothing too bad... i kept driving, running over tree limbs and other debris on the road. "this doesn't look good" kept running through my mind. the shopping center next to my complex had a large sign bent over lying on the ground. broken old trees lay in the street. my covered balcony's contents scattered about. one of the chairs was turned around and lined up on the opposite side, everything else soaked. below i see and hear what looks more like a white rapid than an otherwise dry creek bed.

thunder and lighting sound outside. rain hits the roof. another tornado warning come and gone... i hope i won't have to go through this again... but i know i will. probably soon.