Dorothy was at our house then, as she most often spent the weekends here during that time in her life. And she would bring the recipe, ingredients, and even her favorite mixing bowl and make us the most delicious Sunday dinner. But that day was different; she knew a storm was coming. Dorothy was not afraid of much of anything she confronted, but she had a lifelong fear of the wind. When we were little and shared a bed, she would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night screaming in terror, maybe the sound of the wind outside, maybe a bad dream.
We knew a storm was coming, but nobody seemed overly concerned, seriously underestimating what was to approach. But Dorothy was on edge, even before she looked out the back window and saw the eerie sight. "The trees are sideways," she told us. "Let's go." She went into the bedroom and grabbed pillows and blankets. "We'll go down into the basement." I told her the 2 full sized glass windows might not be safe. So we shut the doors in the hallway and settled down there with our blankets, waiting for the worst. It was nervewracking. I'd give anything to be able to repeat that time.
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