It's 2 PM

My mind is a flutter, fueled by coffee. My thoughts are to fast for these typing fingers. I want to write but it seems as though my mind can’t sort through the multitude of ideas flying around in my head. One thought reads “Raw beauty” the next, “Pictures hardly tell the truth.” So much input, there’s and overload. Why did I drink two double shot lattes?

Tornados

I was never afraid of tornados before. To clarify, I recognized their destructive power and feared them for that like any other sane person but back when I was younger hearing the warning or having the television programming interrupted "for and important weather broadcast" just meant another trip to the basement. Sitting here in my basement by myself, I'm wondering why that lightning crack just made me jump or why I had the urge to call and wake her just to hear her voice.

Then it hit me. I now understand why my Dad was so strict when we would hearing the sirens go off. No physical thing we thought we needed to entertain ourselves whilst in the basement was worth our lives. Love brings with it fear. I wasn't afraid for my life, I was afraid of not being here for her. Even her groggy somewhat joking "Tell the tornado you're mine" signifies that. I'm not really afraid of tornados, I'm afraid of losing her even if I'm not the one who'll have to live with the aftermath.