The Tornado

I remember that day the tornado came. I was playing in the back yard when my dad came running and scooped me up under his arm, carrying me parallel to the world, as fast as he could to the cellar.

He literally threw me in the cellar and told me not to move and went to find Lisa and Scott. He left me there alone in that dark, dirt walled cellar dug out of the earth. I wasn’t scared of the cellar though. I liked the damp mildew smell of the place. I liked the spider webs. I probably would have made it a clubhouse or something if my parents had let me play in there. I was scared though. I was scared because I could tell my dad was scared. I obeyed and stood still at the bottom step of the cellar looking up at the light above, waiting for his return.

It wasn’t long before the rest of my family joined me in the cellar and we waited till the tornado passed. We were safe and all was well, but my dad had been scared. I knew he was, but I’m sure he would never admit it.