It’s tornado season here in the USA. That’s the trouble with spring: It brings us tornadoes. There’s a wide swath of the continent that’s called Tornado Alley, because
that’s the chunk of the country where tornadoes are most frequent.
We’re in it.
It’s so weird: We’ll hear about an earthquake in California or a hurricane on the coast, and we look at each other and say, “If I lived there, I’d move.” And then we turn on the weather channel to see how close the tornado is and if it’s time to head for shelter.
So yesterday, they said the storms would move in around 2:00 in the afternoon, just the time I told Mom I would come help her with some computer stuff. I went there and did that, and talked her into coming back to my house instead of our going into her basement. We have storm parties at our house.
It was chilly in our basement, so Charlie and I wrapped Mom up in jackets and blankets. We had water and graham crackers and the radio. I brought the book I was reading aloud and continued the story while the wind and rain whipped around like a couple of cats hopped up on catnip.
When it was past, I made supper and took Mom home for our regular evening visit.
The worst storms went north of us and south of us, leaving us horrified and heartbroken at the devastation suffered by so many. For us, it was just another spring day in Tornado Alley.
WRITING PROMPT: How does your main character deal with a potentially ruinous and fatal storm?