Running for your life.

April 19, Pana.

At six o'clock tonight a severe storm hit.
It came so fast the siren was on before I realized what was happening, all of a sudden a wall of darkness approaching and the tornado warning siren, and I rushed home and it went on and on, we stayed in the trailer because by that time the lightning and hail were bad and walking through the storm could have been dangerous, but the siren went on and as I was looking out the window listening to the radio for news there was a fireball behind the house across the street and then huge flames shooting up, we learned later that it was a transformer that had blown up, and Fridman was calling John, then Sara, to try to see what they were doing and if they were safe, Sara had run to the hospital, one block away, and so when the hail stopped a little we decided to run there too, running because the car was too far away, and here they were, the Fuscos and the Poemas, and town people too, in the hospital basement, and you catch yourself breathing again, and even smiling, there are all the familiar faces and they are safe, and soon the worst of the storm was tampering off.
The rest of the circus had gathered under a giant gazebo, by the cookhouse, apparently because there was a tornado shelter under it (but it was locked.) John was there.
Between walking among lightning and hail and being in a trailer when a tornado hits it was an excruciating decision but, luckily, one we made for nothing but getting wet as a rag.
Before the storm I had let the kids play in the mud and it was joy itself to watch them.