I got back into Michigan last night, stiff and exhausted from the three and half hour bus ride to Incheon Airport and the thirteen hours stuck on an airplane, ready to stretch out on my own bed with my dog at my side. For thirteen long hours I slept. Nothing could wake me, not even a tornado.
That night the wind was picking up some, thunder rumbled low in the distance and as I was laying in bed reading before sleep the power went out, I took that as good ol’ Michigan telling me to go to bed. By morning the power was still out.
In the kitchen there’s a note taped to the fridge. “DO NOT OPEN, DO NOT OPEN.” My grandfather has a habit of saying everything twice. But still, this isn’t unusual for Michigan. We get thunderstorms that light up transformers and even bring down a tree or two on a fairly regular basis. A day long power outage isn’t out of the question in the heat of July, bringing the sound of a cleanup crew with it.
But these cleanup crews had a lot more to deal with. Outside it was apparent that this wasn’t a normal Michigan thunderstorm. The neighborhood looks like a giant trampled garden, trees plucked up and dropped like common weeds.
It’s hard to explain what it’s like seeing this little neighborhood my grandparents have lived in for more than 40 years being swiftly and violently re-landscaped. But thankfully everyone I talked to was alright, despite the fact that no siren went off – for a tornado that touched down for 10 minutes.
I still don’t have power, and I don’t have any more time to spend outside of my house to finish this post right now. More when electricity is returned.