basement

Last night the tornado sirens woke me up. The thunder was really bad, and I woke up wondering, was that how Grandma knew there was a tornado coming?

When I was growing up and living with my mother at my grandparent's house, I was watching Scooby Doo one day and my Grandmother ran in, grabbed her purse, grabbed me, and rushed me to the basement. My grandfather was sent after my mother who was deaf at the time to wake her from her nap.

This was also when we had our German Shephard/Great Dane mix dog who was so huge she covered the front door when she decided she didn't like who was there (usually the mail man, who decided not to deliver our mail after a few frightening incidents with our dog at the door). Man, I loved that dog. I believe at that time we also had a small poodle that was a bit nervous.

The dogs, my grandparents, my mother, and I all huddled in the basement watching out the storm door where the wind was whipping through the trees that lined the back yard.

We stayed in the basement all night. I learned then the importance of storing blankets in a basement that's unfinished. Lying on the floor was uncomfortable, and the constant noise from the emergency radio we had was annoying.