T-Town - One Year Later

A while back a writer friend of mine told me about a contest being run at Esquire magazine - in honor of their 78th year of publication they were looking for stories that were exactly 78 words. As Doug said, 78 words is hard! 


Anyway, here's my entry. (And no, it didn't win. And I didn't read the story that did.)

April 27, 2011, Tuscaloosa, Alabama

5:15 a.m.: Sirens: Check television. Storm past. Back to bed.

5:45 a.m.: Phone: No school. Back to bed.

7:45 a.m.: Jay: Have fun on your day off.

Me: If we keep the roof and power.

5:45 p.m.: Television: Sirens again. Check television.

Weatherman: Huge tornado. Over Tuscaloosa. 35th Street.

Jay: That's Katie's apartment.

Me. Oh my God.

8:15 p.m.: Text: Katie: We're all ok.

Me: Still have roof. And power. And daughter. 

A lot has been said over the past couple of days - the one year anniversary of that storm. The media - television and print - have been talking about it a lot around here. There have been some public ceremonies and stuff, commemorating the day. And some friends have asked me about it - and I'm glad to tell my part of the story, to elaborate on those 78 words. But, here's the deal... I can't really explain it. I am still, after all this time, at a loss for words. (And that's odd for me, since I consider myself a 'writer'.) I understand, now, why soldiers don't really want to talk about their experiences. I think I understand, a little bit at least, what PTSD is all about. There are sections of town that I just don't drive through without tears. I can weep over the sight of one lone tree in the middle of a field - no branches left on its massive trunk but with hundreds of green leaves sprouting all over it. I was sitting at a baseball game a week or so ago and the wind picked up - not even any storm, really, just some clouds and wind - and yet I could feel my anxiety spike. I don't know. I just don't know...