The wind took the trees to their knees, where they wept. An ominous emptiness swelled over the destroyed houses. The worst of it seemed have passed but the devastation only started to be discovered.
My grandmother always said to me, “Dear it only takes seconds for everything to change,” if I was doing something risky. As a child, I never truly understood the magnitude of what that meant—though standing here, I understood it all to clearly.
The news warned us of this. They were headed straight for us. For some reason, we stayed put. I held tightly onto the strap of my backpack. I had my only belongings with me, as well as a few cans food. I stared at the broken violin near my feet as childhood memories flashed through my mind as my mother’s old photo album did when my grandmother and I would look at it. In a matter of seconds, everything that had taken years to build was destroyed. My world disappeared forever. My grandmothers had another bit of regular wisdom she liked to share anytime I felt defeated. She would gently touch my shoulder and say, “Giving up is a long and painful death.” I always felt anxiety when she said this though that being said I never gave up on anything. I always saw it through.
Right now, it was no different. I had to find the others, and I needed to figure out new ways to survive. I took one look at my old world before setting off. I tried not to be sad, in fear it would weaken me too much for what was ahead of me. So with this in mind I carefully gathered all of my sadness, wrapped it up, and slid into my pocket for late inspection. I could be sad later, right now I had to figure out a way to go back, and save my family.