December 1, 2011

We woke up tired from a fitful nights sleep caused by the branches of the ancient scrub oak pounding against our window.  A glance outside threw me into a momentarily pouty mood.  A portion of our fence was down, 2 posts had been snapped.  "One  more spring project to add to the list," I grumped.  Glad that the long night was over we started into the days calendared events.  First up, 7:30 SEOP meeting at the Junior High.  It was a windy drive down Main Street as we took in the scene from the night before.  Large, beautiful trees laying on their sides at the municipal golf course.  Probably 20, maybe even 30 we guessed.  We made it safely into the Junior High and visited with the counselor about our son's future for the next 30 minutes as the lights flickered on and off.  The meeting ended, we hugged Brayden goodbye, wished him a good day and left, not realizing just how soon we'd be back.

On the 5 minute drive home we received a call from Brandon's mom.  "Is everything alright there?  I just spoke with the kids and they sounded worried.  I told them to go to the basement to wait for you."  We assured her that aside from a short nights sleep and a little fence damage there was little to report at our place.  Next item on the agenda, get children to school.  Clothes, breakfast, hair, prayers, scriptures, coats, backpacks.  On our drive to the elementary school we realized that not every home had fared as well as ours.  It was work to get the car door open as the wind blew determinedly against me but we successfully unloaded Allie and Matt.  Nick would stay with us, too frightened by the weather to maneuver school that day.  Inside the school was an eerie feel, only half as many students in attendance that day.  I kissed my children and wandered back out into the mightiest winds I'd seen.

It was on our drive back through the neighborhood that the magnitude of what was happening finally began to sink in. Fences were down in every direction exposing yards being ravaged by the continual winds.  Garbage cans left out for garbage day had been overturned and blown away leaving a thick trail of trash that lined every barrier it could cling to.  Every majestic pine in the neighborhood was laying on it's side, some snapped in two like a toothpick, most pulled up by their very roots.  Shingles were peeling off roofs by the sheets, basketball standards and stop signs were snapped at their base, lying face down.  It was difficult to hold back the tears in the face of our city's new landscape.  As the fierce winds began to pick up all I could think of was having my family near me.

A moment later my cell phone rang, our concerned teenager on the line.  "Mom, can you come get me?"  We called the elementary school to inform them that we'd be picking up our other children as well and in 15 minutes we were huddled together safely in our home.  We stood at the sliding glass doors and watched as our remaining trees were thrown relentlessly from side to side, sided to side.  I cannot explain, nor will I try, the utter helplessness I felt as we stood there that day.  The winds so fierce and unforgiving, happy to bestow destruction upon every single home in sight.  I stopped crossing my fingers and hoping and even stopped reacting to each new tree that toppled.  We were resigned to our fate.

In numbers:
Hurricane 2 force winds up to 102 mph
54,000 people without power, many for days
windows in 30 school buses shattered
10 semi trucks overturned
400 trees down at the municipal golf course (not the 20-30 we'd hoped)
250 trees down at the Oakridge Country Club in our neighborhood
an estimated $8 million clean up for Centerville (a neighboring city)
declared state of emergency

Somehow the cheery Christmas music playing softly in the background seemed out of place, almost irreverent that day . . .