the day time stood still, everything changed, and assorted other cliches

Wednesday, April 27, 2011, approximately 5:10 p.m. The power went out, and Tom and I could only hear the storm. With the TV on, James Spann (weather hero of north-central Alabama) was telling us about the storm's strength, track, and current location, but I don't recall being able to actually hear the winds until the power went out. At that point we sat side by side and waited to hear/feel how badly we were going to be hit.

Also I was on the phone. I was talking to my friend Meredith, who was in her house two doors down; more specifically, she and her 8-year-old daughter, Isabel, were surrounded by pillows in the closet at the center of the home, praying the tornado would miss us. I had told her that she was in the safest place she could be, that it was going to be scary for a few minutes, then it would be over and we would be fine. I remember her asking if I would mind repeating that to Isabel, who perhaps wasn't so sure her mom was correct in telling her they were going to be OK. I said those same words to Isabel, probably a few minutes after 5:00, then Mere took the phone back.

Intermittently I had been texting Mere, Jennifer (in Portland, Ore.), Kristy (in Charlotte, N.C.) and my mother (in Birmingham). I am so glad I spent part of those last few normal hours conversing with my loved ones about the status of things in Tuscaloosa, because now I have a textual record that helps me keep the timeline straight.

I clearly remember Mere asking me to please stay on the phone with her until the storm passed, and I agreed. But as soon as the power went out, I said, "I gotta go!" and hung up. In that moment, my ability to multitask vanished. All I could do was wait. And listen.

--Jennifer
My things will be shiny again someday!