When People Suck . . .

People Suck When . . .

Mar
04

If only I had Lilapsophobia . .

Posted under I'm Over It by Angry Lioness

Lilapsophobia- the one affliction I’ve never had to endure. Lilapsophobia is the fear of Tornadoes (and/or hurricanes).

A few days ago as I was crossing state lines down south, the storm tracker broke through the middle of a good country song with another tornado warning. My son listened to the report intently and promptly grabbed his cell phone and called my mother to relay his fear of our impending deaths.

According to the news break, we were driving directly in the path of an oncoming twister that had reportedly already destroyed several houses, plucked the roofs off like tufts of ripe cotton in a field. I could feel the power of the storm, the hairs on my arm had risen to greet the electricity in the air, yet I was unable to share his concern.

I calmly reminded my children of their tornado training- if we pull over fast, get the hell out of the truck, lay down in the deepest part of the ditch and cover your head with your hands, don’t look up and don’t get. Of course, they were already aware of what to do; they have tornado drills at school. While I relayed these tidbit reminders, I quickly grabbed my camera, checking to make sure the battery wouldn’t give out on me should I be given the chance to snap an amazing shot.

As we moved deeper within the super cell, thunder vibrated the truck with a deafening roar that tickled the hairs on the back of my neck, lighting streaking across the sky – splintered crackling fingers of power stretching to reach the earth. I smiled, silently reminding myself that it was myth that lightening strikes the tallest target, she hits whatever she pleases.

I could see the kids were getting more nervous and I chatted with them to allay their fears, but I was beginning to feel exhilarated. My pulse quickening with each lightening strike as they lit up the sickly-greenish black sky. The rain suddenly becoming fierce, a river against the windshield and visibility was less than a car length. Another breaking warning, this time with sirens running in the background of the station but I didn’t hear the update I was enthralled with the watching the quarter size hail that was hammering down from above, forming in rough piles alongside the road.

Beside me the puppy whined, my ears popped, twice within a moments time – my eyes frantically scanning all directions, watching for debris or the telltale funnel, wanting to chase the storm, stay in the center of it, but knowing that I couldn’t allow the kids to remain in the path.

A few moments later, the kids were within the safety of a building, I ventured back outside, face to the sky, eyes closed, breathing in all in, enjoying the stentorian wind as it roared around my body, tangling my hair. Without further warning the sky opened up and the downpour began once more.

Forced to go inside, I longed to to remain in the storm, alas, I was held back.

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