The Watch
“The dream is always the same…tornadoes appearing in the distance, slowly filling up the sky. I stay by the window, aware of the oncoming darkness and cold breath of the thunderclouds as I watch in silence, a witness to the gathering storm. Helpless. ”
I spotted where we could go—a closet in the basement, away from outer walls and windows, just below a staircase. Cramped, but almost a textbook shelter. I made sure Watson's leash and Darwin's pet voyager were in reach. And I shared all of this with the kids, so we wouldn't run around like headless chickens.
We were making dinner. The news were on, reporting on broken houses near Ottawa, downed power lines, cars trapped by flooded streets in Montreal. My iPhone buzzed: a tornado watch alert tagged with a bright red “critical” label I'd never seen before. The clouds appeared from the west, moving eastwards, coming toward us as a clear line just over the trees, black and roiling like some dark, angry, matter. Fast too, crazy fast. I picked up my camera, mostly standing guard while Cynthia worked on the quiche. The kids joined us. We watched.
The storm passed above us like a giant sea creature, full of grace and menace. A gust of wind, a bit of rain, and it was over.
As far as we know, two tornadoes hit the ground—the one near Ottawa (ON), and another in Mirabel (QC). Thankfully no one was hurt, but the twister in Ottawa damaged over a hundred houses. A major music festival in Quebec City was cancelled mid-show as the clouds reached them, the crowds evacuated.
Fire, heat, water, and wind.
The carefree lazy days of summer in the 21st century…
