Twister

It's impossible to grow up in Georgia and not have at least one, if not two or three or twelve, tornado stories. I remember a few, but 1998 was the worst. The night of the 1998 tornados, I was at college huddled up in my bedroom with my roommate and listening to the raging storm outside. When our blinds got sucked out the window, we ran screaming to the downstairs hallway. A few hours later, this happened to my aunt and cousins. (Graham ended up just fine, by the way.) Anyway, all this means that pretty much no one in my family can sleep at night when there's bad weather. Last night was no exception.

We're all fine, but a lot of people were killed and injured. A lot of people lost their homes. Springtime in the South.

A friend reminded me that I'm moving to the land of tsunamis. But I figure at least with hurricanes and tropical storms and tsunamis, you usually get some warning. When a tornado hits, you're lucky if you even have time to grab your children and run to the basement.

I hate tornado season.