Hot winds are blowing in my wake. Houses crumble, women hold screaming babies. Elderly die, and the young are wounded. This year I have become a walking tornado of heartbreak. Everything simmered to the surface at once and since it has been one careless unstoppable path after another.
I remember being a girl, and being told by many an old man that I was going to be a heartbreaker someday. I just never believed that it would be true. It used to be a compliment, with the sentiments of goodness, but now the word heartbreaker rings truer than is bearable on the hyperactive little heart. Not intentional no, but truly unstoppable. It’s so quiet, quiet, quiet in here. Four hearts in particular have deserved no such natural disaster. But those unfortunate soles to come into contact with me will have live in emotional state awarded trailer parks.
One of my favorite stories that my mother used to tell me was when she was a girl and she taking a shower when a tornado passed through her neighborhood. She couldn’t hear her family pounding on the door, desperate for her. She said the lights went out and she heard what sounded like a train derailing and landing on a lion's tail (that metaphor delivered strait from my mother's mouth). The noise stopped and she realized she was still naked in the shower with the water still running. Her father broke down the door and threw a towel around her and carried her into the basement with the rest of the family. After it passed they all went outside, my mother still only wearing a towel. Her neighbor's house was destroyed. My mother was small and frail like I was as a child. A tomboy with chicken legs and a beautiful waist. She is still terrified of tornados. But during heaving ominous storms, she sits like a cat on the windowsill in amazement beckoning a second chance to be assumed from the earth into the floating twirling paradise of a tornado.
I could always listen to that story over and over and over…