Sat, Jul 19 2008
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Published May 16, 2008 12:58 pm - Breathe in, breathe out. It’s been a little more than a week since the power of nature cut a devastating path through our area, killing 23 people, injuring hundreds and destroying homes and lives — all in the matter of minutes. And, I’m still shaking. Carol Stark: Effects remain long after storm Breathe in, breathe out.
It’s been a little more than a week since the power of nature cut a devastating path through our area, killing 23 people, injuring hundreds and destroying homes and lives — all in the matter of minutes. And, I’m still shaking. It’s not the little pieces of glass that I keep finding in my purse that bother me. It’s not the cuts and bruises on my back or the fact that my SUV looks like it was hit by a bomb. No, that’s not what’s weighing on my mind. Nor am I that bothered by the tree that fell on my house in Carthage, while I was out driving about a quarter of a mile from Iris Road in Newton County. Or even the fact that most of my appliances were fried when the power lines were snapped away from the weather head. No, I am more than happy to be alive to deal with those annoyances. What I can’t get out of my mind is the vision of a dark wall — a mixture of dust and rain — that faced us as we came up over the hill. I can’t forget the screams of my 10-year-old nephew or the sight of my sister covering him with her body. I keep hearing the sound of debris pounding the side of my vehicle. And the roar — yes, it sounds like a freight train — overhead. Days have passed and I’m still holding my breath — much the same way I did about 6 p.m., May 10, while I was waiting for the huge tree, or someone’s tractor or farm truck to end my life along with the lives of my sister and nephew. We were airborne for a bit, but settled into a ditch — right across from a mobile home that literally exploded before our eyes. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over. My nephew’s face was covered in blood, but as we wiped away his tears, we discovered the wounds were superficial. We shook out the glass and looked for a way out. Sheet metal, boards, and the flue from the mobile home blocked my door, but we crawled out the other door and in amazement realized that we had little more than cuts. We looked toward the place where the mobile home once sat. It was gone. The last thing I will never be able to forget was the sight of the woman lying in the ditch with her husband bent over her. She died later that night. It probably happened over the course of two or three minutes. And, I keep wondering if I had slammed into reverse, could I have simply become an observer rather than a participant? But, no, I later realized that would have been tragic, as huge trees fell across the roadway blocking the road. 
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