.2:50 a.m. Wake up...the scream of sirens.
Room by room, "Wake up, go to the basement...run, quickly." They are deep asleep, wake up startled.
"Is it real mom? Is it a real tornado?" it's the youngest, the most afraid, though they are all scared.
"I don't know, honey, but we have to act like it is."
They scramble, unsteady legs on the stairs.
Children huddled in the basement, a phone call to my mother, just a few minutes away. She answers first ring. "Are you downstairs?" "I am," she says. "Take cover, it's over our heads."
Radar, screaming red and purple. Sirens screaming. Children wide-eyed, frightened.
As quick as it came, it's over. All safe. Back to bed.
Hearts still beating, sirens still screaming, but the storm has passed.