Coming Home

I left my last visit today in Minnetonka knowing that Dakota County was under a tornado warning. I texted Pam, our daycare provider; all was well there.

But then I got a text from Michael, who was also leaving work, that said "Tornado spotted in the field next to our house."

My first thought was of gratefulness that we weren't all huddled nervously in the basement. Good thing we were away. And my second thought was, "We're away, but our house is there. Or is it...."

I have become increasingly anxious during storms. I wonder if it's an age thing, just like I've become a little more sensitive to vertigo on escalators and tummy-turning on roller coasters. Maybe I'm just growing up to be a bundle of nerves. Or maybe it's because we have another little life to look after. It's one thing to cower under blankets on the basement concrete with my husband, and another to have to worry about adequately sheltering our child from debris. I know, I'm being dramatic, but for me, becoming a parent has caused me to play out worst case scenarios.

The worst case scenario didn't happen, I knew, as we weren't in the house. But as I drove home, I couldn't help but wonder if our house was damaged. Or demolished. Some people's were; why not ours, which was less than a mile from the tornado? Our ducky-yellow house on a hill is a sitting duck for high winds, in the best of weather. Is the roof there? Would I drive up to find my clothes in my neighbor's lawn? Would I be able to find Oliver's diaper bag in the rubble? Did my cat run away? I had visions of parts of the house exposed, like a giant dollhouse. It's just stuff, it's just stuff....I kept thinking to myself. And in a desperate attempt to avoid freaking out over the unknown, I actually comforted myself with the fact that, if the house suffered demise, we could rebuild with a bigger mud room and the utility sink that we never thought to add. That would be nice.

I turned the corner to see the first glimpse of our house. The roof was there! Window after window peeked out, and there it was, standing strong on the hill. I turned into the cul-de-sac to find the front to be intact, too, minus one hanging basket and two pots of sunflowers tipped over. And that was all. I let out a sigh and a couple of tears, took a picture, and gratefully stepped into our small mudroom, which today was just right.