Thirty years after a tornado hit Wichita Falls, TX, I'm still here.

Thirty years ago today, a giant tornado visited Wichita Falls, Texas--killing a number of people.

I was nineteen years old at the time. When the news broke that the tornado was traveling up Southwest Parkway (not far away from the French Quarter apartments where I lived), I ran into my apartment closet and shut the door tight.

For the next few minutes, I could hear and feel the wind battering the apartment building, plus occasional sounds of breaking glass.

When it was safe to come out, I saw that minimal damage had been done. One window had been broken in the bedroom and a panel had broken on the glass sliding door (leading to the tiny balcony) in the living room.

[A year earlier, I lived in the small apartment next door. The roof was completely removed. If I had been still living there, I wouldn't be writing this entry today. ]

Within a few minutes, someone from the Red Cross kicked in the apartment's front door. I walked downstairs and saw both my parents--crying and overjoyed that I survived.

http://www.timesrecordnews.com/news/2009/apr/10/survivors-find-home-online-to-share-stories/
http://www.timesrecordnews.com/news/2009/apr/10/day-terror/
http://www.timesrecordnews.com/news/2009/apr/10/gone-but-not-forgotten/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bKDQTPt22w