Where the Tumbleweed Lands

The picture hanging in the gallery reminded me of Oklahoma. The title said something about a storm. Oh, believe me Oklahoma has its share of storms. You look for storms out there like you look for the tumbleweed that blows across the plain unto the highway.

However, this particular day I did not think about the storms--my heart was full. Driving down I-62 just my girls and me—singing and having fun. Out of no where we saw the storm chasers. You know the idiots who make their living by chasing death—those people whose calling is to tangle with the beast named tornado. Anyway, they were out in numbers. I stopped singing told the girls to turn on the radio--something must be wrong. Suddenly the sky turned black, a wall as high up as it was wide. They looked at me and asked, “mommy what are we going to do”? I said “I’m goin’ ta punch it and you’re goin’ ta pray”!

I drove as fast as I could to out run this storm. Mommy they asked “should we stop and get in the ditch?” I said “in my new suit--I don’t think so!” We kept on driving and let me tell you the wind blew that car from side to side. Reminded me of the time when Paul was a prisoner on that there ship (you know the story) and he told everyone you must abide to survive.

You know your life can flash before you, that isn’t a cliché--its truth. My oldest girl prayed harder as my hands clutched the wheel and my foot floored the pedal. To try to out run a storm you must be either one of two things--crazy drunk or just crazy! I don’t have the habit of drinking spirits so it must have been the other spirit that told me I could make it through--and I was just crazy enough to believe.

On the other side of the black wall the sun was shining as if nothing was happening at all. I looked behind me the wall was still tall it looked like that monster from your dreams when you have eaten too much pizza just before going to bed. Tears begin to stream down my face my heart about to burst in my throat. Just as we were at the edge of town a brush of tumbleweed scurried across the road—that was me just a few minutes before. Where will that weed land?--only the wind knows!