After the Storm
7/6/03 – 7/22/05
The day dawned bright and sunny. We must have slept at some point during the night since no one knew when the quiet returned. As we shook dust and sleep from our bodies, we climbed from the storm cellar to survey the damage. The radio had mentioned a tornado headed toward town. After that, we lost reception and could only gauge the storm’s progress by the noise level.
The sun’s brightness was painful after being in the dark for so long. The calmness was such a contrast to the previous night’s chaos. The sights that met us were spectacular. There were no trees or houses as far as we could see. There wasn’t even any debris. It was as if the storm vacuumed everything in its path. My house was gone. The car and garage were also gone. Even the flowers we planted the day before were taken. Tears streamed down my face as I grabbed my wife’s hand and just stared.
No one spoke. We had all lost everything. We had only our families and the clothes on our backs. We saw other families emerge from similar cellars. They slowly rose from below ground. We started walking toward them—toward town. Others joined along the way.
The breeze felt good after the stuffiness of the cellar. As people joined us and as time passed, quiet conversations began. Tears never really stopped, they dried temporarily only to begin again moments later. Many had no idea how to begin anew. Everything they cherished had suddenly vanished without so much as a thank you. After about an hour of walking, we began to see activity. Our numbers had grown to two dozen. We must have appeared as a small army converging on the city. We were all tired, dirty, sore, and hungry for having waited out the storm in our respective cellars.
We were met with concern by the townspeople. We’d always been more isolated than some people since we were residents of small communities spaced miles apart. We did, however, make our weekly trips to town for supplies, so we weren’t total strangers. And now, when we needed help the most, we were grateful for the friendly faces.
There was a small park in the center of town. The women of the town raided their refrigerators and threw together an impromptu picnic for us. The leftovers had never tasted so good. They also gathered buckets of water so we could wash the worst of the grime from ourselves. Promises were made for showers after everyone had eaten. Clothes were collected so that we could be more comfortable. The clothes we were wearing would also be washed for us. I had never felt so cared for in my life.
These strangers went out of their way to make us feel at home. They listened to our stories and told their own. Most of them cried with us. Some of the children curled up on blankets and dozed while their parents continued to talk. Eventually, the conversation turned to what to do next. We were, of course, invited to stay as long as we liked. The only good thing about all of this was that we still had the land. We could rebuild. This was the first time anything like this had struck our part of the state. Ususally, our weather was mild for most of the year.
An older gentleman suddenly got very excited. He seemed to be talking to himself and then increased his volume to be heard. “Ya know,” he began, “for years, I was intending to put an addition on my house. I never did. At my age, why do I need more room? When I get visitors, we make do. I have all of the wood and supplies just sitting there, collecting dust. My grandsons and I could bring that out to you tomorrow. It ain’t much, but it’s a start.”
After many objections, we agreed to accept the generous offer. Other townspeople were finding their own castoffs to donate. One woman had some seeds she bought and never planted. These were promptly donated. Arrangements were made for the donations to be delivered the next day. Offers to sleep in town were declined. Instead, we were loaded up with blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags to use in our storm cellars. Some toys were found for the children. Food was also packed up for us.
We piled into the backs of three pickup trucks and were driven back to our “homes.” Even though everything was gone, it felt right to be there. This, as empty as it was, belonged to us. Heartfelt thanks and hugs were proffered around as promises were made to return the next day. We would rebuild in stages. The government might offer some help as well. We would have to wait to see how that worked. In the meantime, we were home.
The day dawned bright and sunny. We must have slept at some point during the night since no one knew when the quiet returned. As we shook dust and sleep from our bodies, we climbed from the storm cellar to survey the damage. The radio had mentioned a tornado headed toward town. After that, we lost reception and could only gauge the storm’s progress by the noise level.
The sun’s brightness was painful after being in the dark for so long. The calmness was such a contrast to the previous night’s chaos. The sights that met us were spectacular. There were no trees or houses as far as we could see. There wasn’t even any debris. It was as if the storm vacuumed everything in its path. My house was gone. The car and garage were also gone. Even the flowers we planted the day before were taken. Tears streamed down my face as I grabbed my wife’s hand and just stared.
No one spoke. We had all lost everything. We had only our families and the clothes on our backs. We saw other families emerge from similar cellars. They slowly rose from below ground. We started walking toward them—toward town. Others joined along the way.
The breeze felt good after the stuffiness of the cellar. As people joined us and as time passed, quiet conversations began. Tears never really stopped, they dried temporarily only to begin again moments later. Many had no idea how to begin anew. Everything they cherished had suddenly vanished without so much as a thank you. After about an hour of walking, we began to see activity. Our numbers had grown to two dozen. We must have appeared as a small army converging on the city. We were all tired, dirty, sore, and hungry for having waited out the storm in our respective cellars.
We were met with concern by the townspeople. We’d always been more isolated than some people since we were residents of small communities spaced miles apart. We did, however, make our weekly trips to town for supplies, so we weren’t total strangers. And now, when we needed help the most, we were grateful for the friendly faces.
There was a small park in the center of town. The women of the town raided their refrigerators and threw together an impromptu picnic for us. The leftovers had never tasted so good. They also gathered buckets of water so we could wash the worst of the grime from ourselves. Promises were made for showers after everyone had eaten. Clothes were collected so that we could be more comfortable. The clothes we were wearing would also be washed for us. I had never felt so cared for in my life.
These strangers went out of their way to make us feel at home. They listened to our stories and told their own. Most of them cried with us. Some of the children curled up on blankets and dozed while their parents continued to talk. Eventually, the conversation turned to what to do next. We were, of course, invited to stay as long as we liked. The only good thing about all of this was that we still had the land. We could rebuild. This was the first time anything like this had struck our part of the state. Ususally, our weather was mild for most of the year.
An older gentleman suddenly got very excited. He seemed to be talking to himself and then increased his volume to be heard. “Ya know,” he began, “for years, I was intending to put an addition on my house. I never did. At my age, why do I need more room? When I get visitors, we make do. I have all of the wood and supplies just sitting there, collecting dust. My grandsons and I could bring that out to you tomorrow. It ain’t much, but it’s a start.”
After many objections, we agreed to accept the generous offer. Other townspeople were finding their own castoffs to donate. One woman had some seeds she bought and never planted. These were promptly donated. Arrangements were made for the donations to be delivered the next day. Offers to sleep in town were declined. Instead, we were loaded up with blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags to use in our storm cellars. Some toys were found for the children. Food was also packed up for us.
We piled into the backs of three pickup trucks and were driven back to our “homes.” Even though everything was gone, it felt right to be there. This, as empty as it was, belonged to us. Heartfelt thanks and hugs were proffered around as promises were made to return the next day. We would rebuild in stages. The government might offer some help as well. We would have to wait to see how that worked. In the meantime, we were home.
posted by Vickie at 3:26 PM
4 Comments:
Hey Vickie,
This touched some deep down part of me. Maybe it's because of last year's season down here and all the destruction we had to witness and wade through.
Yeah, I know, it's not quite the same, but it is.
As far as the writing goes, I see a few minor touch-ups that could be done, but nothing so drastic that it's detrimental to the story.
Thanks for posting this.
Angie,
Thanks for reading and commenting. I'm glad you appreciate this piece. Any suggestions you'd be inclined to make would be greatly appreciated. You've been closer to this type of thing than I have. I'd be grateful.
Maybe I watch too much TV, but I always envisioned ambulances and firetrucks swarming out to the areas where the damage occurred. Probably just a flashback from "Twister." lol
I like that we don't experience the storm in the story, just the emotional and physical aftermath - it's a human story, not a man against nature story. I like that, mostly because I don't think we'll ever defeat nature...
Enjoyed this V :)
I started this two years ago. It may well have been influenced by that movie. It happened to be on again the other night and we caught a few minutes of it. I got as far as the sentence before the breeze. I wrote the breeze sentence four months later. The rest was written today. I think it say a lot for being as short as it is. I would love any feedback for improvements.
Thanks for reading and commenting. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
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