Ides of March

The ides of March. I took note of the date, remembered Shakespeare's warning, and tried to shrug off the silly sense of dread. I'm not superstitious, but sometimes it's fun to pretend. Still, I glanced apprehensively at the growing clouds and tried to forget the ominous forecast. My resolve further weakened when I misplaced the frosting for Emily's birthday cake. I sent David, Emily, and my food ahead with Johnathan and proceeded to tear around the house searching for the chocolate frosting. The girl of honor shouldn't be late for her own party, and hungry people shouldn't have to wait simply because I'm a ditz. I sorrowfully realized, however, that I had forgotten to send the plates and utensils with Johnathan. Guests would be staring at a table of food with no way to eat. I dashed to my car to search the trunk and found the elusive frosting in a forgotten bag. Heavy drops were beginning to fall as I pulled up at the church. Johnathan walked out to meet me, and I asked, "Do you know what today is?" Once we were inside the church gym, it was easier to ignore the rumbles that were growing closer. We were just finishing up lunch when my cousin called to warn us that there was a tornado warning and that the storm would be hitting in about forty minutes. I think most people would have been willing to open presents before heading out, but I was too nervous to do anything but start packing up. We tossed unopened presents into the trunk, and I was soaked to the bone by the heavy downpour. I barely thought of my drenched clothes and called Sheila to see if we could come to their house, mere minutes from the church. Chuck, Sheila, and Hannah were preparing to leave for Florida and had no idea that the weather was so bad. When we called, they switched on the news and were watching when we arrived. Nine of us sat in the sun room and tuned in until the satellite went out. According to the path it was taking out of Cherokee, we were right in the path of a tornado. The basement was filled with old toys from my childhood. After all, Hannah and I received carbon copies of Christmas presents from our grandparents every year. I soaked up the memories and wished that I could stop shaking. The lights went out. I sat on a couch, clutching my squirmy baby and bouncing my legs uncontrollably. Everyone else seemed ridiculously calm, and I wished that my fear of severe weather would take on the shape of something that occurs with less frequency. As we counted down the minutes until impact and watched through a small window, hail began to dance down through blinding rain. The trees began to twist and sway as wind whipped around the house. Then suddenly, it stopped. The world resumed calm and a regular thunderstorm took the place of what had threatened devastation. We stayed in the basement until it seemed safe, then proceeded back upstairs. Emily slept and David and Ethan played for most of the drama. From Chuck and Sheila's, we headed to Granny and Papa's where Johnathan helped my grandfather get my grandmother back upstairs. I instantly felt for Granny because I could tell that she hadn't been forced to sit up for so long in quite some time. The sun came out and it was as if the dark clouds had never existed. When Granny laid down to rest, we headed on up the road toward Dad's. Johanthan had to stop for gas, so I drove over to leave some of the uneaten birthday cake with my cousin. Terri and I were talking in her kitchen when I nervously noticed clouds regrouping on the horizon. It was time to go. I sat at the stop sign on AT Moore Road and debated. Left toward Dads' and Dawson Forest Road, or right toward my cousin Rhonda's? I chose left and regretted it almost immediately. At the Dawson Forest fork, hail began pelting my car and I turned back towards Forsyth County. Driving like a bat out of hell, I raced to Rhonda's. I jumped out of my car and was almost blown sideways by the wind. Once on the front porch, I rang the doorbell. No answer. I frantically rang again. No answer. My panicked mind failed to process that doorbells don't work when the power goes out. I sensed the irony of the situation. What good was running to a safe place if I blew away on the doorstep? Desperately, I knocked like mad on the front door. Rhonda and Neil answered together, and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I tried to call Johnathan multiple times and was thankful that he and the kids had assuredly made it back to the house before the storm hit. It wasn't until pulling into the driveway at Dad's that I remembered...Johnathan didn't have a key to the house. I almost cried. My poor babies had been sitting in the car through the storm as Johnathan contemplated breaking in through a window. A rainbow appeared in the sky, and all was peaceful for the rest of the evening. The rainbow signaled the end of a very scary day and reminded me of God's blessings.

Poor Emily just isn't meant to have a birthday party up here. Influenza crashes the first attempt, and tornadoes interrupt the second. The best pictures I got were of her demolishing an oreo at Granny and Papa's, then ripping into breakfast with Uncle Bobby and Aunt Jeanette. Work begins tomorrow morning.