Last night we had a tornado warning or watch or something. If you haven't figured it out already...I live in Michigan and well, we just don't get tornadoes in Michigan.
I went to bed last night to some pretty lightning and a storm off in the distance. I love thunderstorms and I thought it was a beautiful way for creation to celebrate the summer solstice. Sometime in the early morning hours, I was awakened by the sirens. Like I said before, we don't get tornado excitement in Michigan so my ears didn't recognize the foreign sound. Like having an infant crying in your house, I realized that the sound wasn't going to go away, so I pushed back the covers and made my way the television. I was a little surprised by the weatherman's pronouncement to go to the basement. I walked back to our bedroom to rouse my husband, which is an extremely hard task. After much bouncing, tapping, and shaking he finally woke up. Our great protector would sleep through my murder...ah, well. We each scooped up a kid and their blankets and headed to our basement.
Now, our basement is not pretty. It's a wood paneled basement with a cement floor and it's dotted with the random pieces of free furniture. It's also where the majority of our kid's toys live and go to die. We snuggled our kids onto a day bed and turned on the basement television. Our local weatherman gets a little excited. Every year, the slightest snowfall turns into The Blizzard of 2000 whatever... So there we are...2 kids asleep on a random daybed, my husband and I watching the weatherman in all his glory, and lightening flashing all around us.
Nothing ever came of the storm. Today, all is calm. We're all a little more tired for it but I'm also in that state of heightened awareness that, the people who I head to the basement with, are the most important people and I love them the most. They are also the people I will force a nap on later today...