Vaguely Remembered, yet Never Forgotten

Its funny how our earliest years in life are the blurriest ones when it comes to recreating the images we saw. So much occurs to our frail, young mind at such a rapid pace that it becomes impossible to remember all those eye-opening moments. Heck, I remember next to nothing about my childhood except for the tornado that ripped down our farm home and changed my family forever.

At the toddler age of 2 years old, I was too young to comprehend the power possessed by a tornado or let alone strong winds. My brother was watching over me to make sure that, if the storm that was upon us got severe, I wouldn't crawl out of his sight. My mother was in the kitchen, grasping her coffee mug as her hands trembled just enough to make her spill some as she sipped. The lightning flashes lit up the house for split seconds at a time as my father moseyed about the entryway in his usual "I'm not scared of this" attitude. I don't think I've ever seen my dad afraid of anything, probably because of his incredible bond with God and his faith, not to mention he was a farm boy growing up. I think thats why my mom is the perfect compliment to my father, because she is the most brittle person I've ever known when it comes to apprehension and worrying. My dad is like her guardian and I could see that from the day I was born.

"Elliot, lets go down to the basement buddy." My brother picked me up and carried me down to our cement-floored basement with the single light fixture over the middle of the room. He tugged the string and the light flicked on, spider webs coated pretty much every corner of the room and there was one lone half-window on the upper edge of the near wall. My parents both ran down the steps, "Elliot and Nate, why don't you get under that table and cover your heads," my mother panicked. I scattered for the middle of the table so I could be sheltered and I covered my head with hands like a siren had just gone off by my ear. "Oh boy, this doesn't sound good," my dad mumbled as he looked outside the slit of a window we had. The house began to rumble and jars rattled off the food shelfs we had in the basement. My brother reminded me, "It's gonna be okay bud," as I shivered in fear, sucking my thumb bone dry. 

The ever haunting sound came, that sound like a freight train about cross the road, and I knew that a tornado was coming. "Get down!" My mother screeched as the house began to rip apart. "Oh, Jesus!" My dad was furious as he could hear the shingles peeling off the roof and our barn being twisted to chips of wood. I remained clenching my head and sucking my thumb with my brother wrapped around me. "Douglas, oh no," my mom cried, her face now wet in tears. "Its okay, I think its over us honey," The house slowly began to stiffen as we sat in silence, light flickering and waving back and forth. "Its gone," my brother said as he began to unlatch me. We went up the stairs, slowly unlocking the door and pushing it open to a house now sopping wet without a roof. The living room was drenched and when I looked up I could see the dark night sky still thick with lightning. 

"Oh my God," my mom and brother murmured simultaneously. I could see my dad, completely distraught from the carnage that was wreaked upon our house. For the first time in my life, I had seen my dad in fear, as he wept standing by the window looking at the remains of his farm and years of hard work.