In a strange and horrible turn of events, a tornado swept through Ft. Stewart, Georgia where we used to live.
No one was severely injured, no one died, but a number of places and possessions were destroyed. People are displaced.
We still have friends there, so on Facebook, we saw a lot of photos of the damage and a few videos of the tornado.
One of the videos seems to have been taken from in front of our former house.
FIL doesn’t understand how we know it’s our house, since the house number is blurry and as he said, “All the houses look the same.” Well, when you live somewhere for seven years, you know. That’s the same dead bush there on the right. The same sidewalk curve and electrical boxes where we dug Moo out of a sinkhole. The same view down the street. We know, cause we lived there.
Imagine seeing tornado footage from in front of your old house. Trippy, huh?
After determining that all my friends were safe, my first thought was, “Thank God I didn’t die in a tornado in Georgia!” I’da been so pissed!
If you’ve been reading me for a while, then you know how happy I am not to live in Georgia anymore, how happy I am to be home.
It’s not about the tornadoes; we have tornadoes here much more frequently. I’ve written about it already. I’m really glad the tornado didn’t come through while we lived there. Poor Sassy already has fear of “nornadoes.”
If I’d died in a hurricane in Gerogia, I’da said, “Oh dang.” But I can die in a tornado right here at home, thank you very much.
Anyone who understands my feelings on this matter, you just give yourself a cookie or a gold star or a beer, because I can offer you no reward.