As the rain came, the hair on the back of my neck ruffled as I looked out at the window.  Not knowing what to do tears began to form, and I squirmed and wiggled.  My brother said to me, “Oh shut up, the lights haven’t gone off nor the siren.”    As the family sat down to a trout fish feast the light outside began to fade.  Soon the wind picked up speed, and the lights flicked off.  All of a sudden our happy dinner turned into a frightening scene.  The darkness became more significant, a crash was heard from the upstairs.  The outside storm door had blown open, and the glass shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces looking as if it were a spider’s web.

The next thing we knew Dad and Mom were loading all of us up in the car.  All I could think of was: “We’re going to drive out in this mess?”  As soon as we did, the warning siren roared of impending danger.  And I being six years old began to sob, and scream uncontrollably.  Mom kept me near her comforting me as best as she could.  Leaving the house, I had no idea where we were going or whether I’d ever see my toys again. 

As we drove, the static crackled from the radio informing us to take cover.  Cover, we aren’t taking cover we are in the car.  The image is clear though; I saw debris of papers, boxes, limbs, leaves and dirt flying through the air.  Coming down hard from the ugly dark sky rain and hail pelted us as we drove around the town. The ping of each hail on the car hood, and loud thud as it hit the windshield is a sound that is not easily forgotten. 

Where we were going I had no clue.  For me, I trusted my Dad; he always made things right and never put me in danger.  Eventually we turned south and made our way out to the countryside past the small airport.  I know that’s what Dad’s are for, fixing things, and making everyone safe.  Somehow he knew we were going to be safe.