THE LITTLE TWISTER

I've just finished cleaning up the house and everything is spotless and gleaming.  I make myself a cup of coffee and settle down at my desk to start writing.  It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining and the birds are twittering in the tall pine trees.  It's the kind of day that dogs love, when they can laze about in the sun doing nothing in particular.

I sit at my desk writing for a while, trying to encourage the inspiration to sneak out of its hiding place, when I notice that a deathly hush has descended over the reserve and the birds are no longer twittering.  Something must have scared them off; they always manage to see the signs of approaching disaster before we do.  I hear now a steady rumbling off in the distance and over the rooftops I see a huge cloud of dust approaching fast.  Suddenly realising what it is, I jump up out of my chair and rush around the house madly, locking doors and closing windows.  "Batten down the hatches, there's trouble on the way!" I yell to the dog as he follows me through the house, it's always this way, the mad dash to tie things down and lock things up and then the hasty retreat to the shelter to wait out the storm.

There's just enough time to see the enormous dirty dust cloud coming down our road towards the house as I slam closed the door to the shelter.  Heaven help us all and let’s just hope this one won't be as devastating as the last one.

We're warm and secure in the shelter, the cats and dog and I.  Still I hear the rumbling and it's almost on top of us now.  There's a rattling at the doors and windows and then suddenly, as if it has its own key, the back door bursts open and it sweeps through the house.  I hear dishes smashing and cupboard doors being flung open in the kitchen, and then there's a slamming noise in the lounge as the furniture is being hurled about.  The noise grows louder and becomes deafening, until the very walls and floor are trembling.

It makes its way down the passage and the linen cupboard is torn open.  Then on to the bedrooms and once again doors are thrown open almost being wrenched from their hinges.  The bathroom is next in its pathway and no doubt the once clean bath will be filled with mud and dust.

There is nothing I can do to prevent the disaster as I sit huddled up with the animals in our secure haven.  We sit there anxiously for what seems like hours, but in fact are probably only a couple of minutes.  That's all it takes, just a couple of minutes for a once lovely home to be in ruins.  For our serene world to become a disaster area, a battle zone.

I hear another door slam and the smashing of glass, then the deafening rumble is suddenly gone and the deathly hush has returned.  I sigh relief – thank heavens it’s over.  I'm not in a hurry to open the hatch and survey the disaster that was once my home.  I've seen this type of destruction far too many times and it fills me with such anger.  It is as if I have my own tornado deep down inside me and if I unleash it, it will only serve to make the devastation worse.

I warily open the hatch and peer out towards the house, the dog dashing past me.  Slowly approaching the house, I see rubbish strewn all over the lawn and every door in the house is wide open, inviting everyone to come inside.  As I had expected, the kitchen is a mess, dishes lying all over the place, cupboard doors hanging open and forlorn.  I hear a crunching under my feet with each step that I take, a mixture of toast crumbs and broken glass.  Then following the path of the storm, I venture into the lounge.  The furniture is all awry and so are the curtains and there are my once clean blankets lying in piles like dirty laundry.  All my cd's are scattered far and wide throughout the lounge, bearing witness to the power of the recent storm.

Down the passage I go and step over yet more blankets lying on the floor at the open door of the linen cupboard.  My goodness, this is worse than the last one.  The bedrooms looks like a second hand clothing shop with dresses and jeans hung haphazardly over every item of furniture.  It's almost as if the wind had been trying on my clothes to find something spectacular to wear whilst travelling the world.  Not even my perfumes and powders have been spared the wrath; they too lie used on the floor.

The bathroom is next on my inspection route, and again my predictions were correct.  Mud and dust cling to the walls and floor, the bath looks like a dustbowl and I see the medicine chest is wide open – maybe it wasn't feeling too well.  Certainly having to travel the world wreaking havoc must sap one's energy!

I sit with head in hands, trying to control my anger.  Just sip my coffee slowly and inhale deeply on my cigarette – wait for the anger to subside.  Slowly, slowly, now take a couple of deep breaths; don't let it get to me.  I sit and gaze numbly at the world I tried so hard to nurture to perfection, now I will have to start all over again.  It's always the same- start at the beginning again, patient and steady, rebuild over and over.

I hear footsteps coming down the path; it's Trav and Manth, my two eldest children making their way through the mine field of debris.  I get up and meet them at the door.  "Don't tell me, the twister again?"  my son asks knowingly.

Yup, that's right, the twister.  Unfortunately we live in a twister area, not much we can do".

"Don't worry Mom, one day our little twister Ashleigh will grow up and leave home and you can rebuild and start again".

I shake my head and walk back into the house.  I suppose he's right.  One sunny morning, three years from now, Ashleigh, our own little twister, will pack her bags and head out into the brave new world to conquer all the hi-ways and bi-ways.  And heaven help them all!

Cally

22/7/2001