Sirens Screamed Out a Warning

This morning started with that unmistakable feeling in the air, the kind that’s thick, humid, and just a little too quiet. The air felt electric, like it was holding its breath. I noticed it right away when I got up, but after breakfast I was still going about my day, not thinking much of it. Then suddenly, the tornado warning sirens started blaring through our neighborhood. Anyone who lives in Georgia knows those sirens mean business, a warning means a tornado has actually been sighted, not just a “maybe.” That sound will get your attention faster than a ringing phone at midnight.

Without hesitation, we grabbed our bike helmets (because apparently that’s who we are now) and huddled into the laundry room. Heavy rain began pounding the house, the wind picked up, and then came the hail, loud, fast, and unmistakable. The whole thing only lasted about fifteen minutes, but those minutes felt much longer when you’re listening to the house creak and wondering what the sky has planned next. When the storm finally passed and the sirens went quiet, we were beyond thankful.

Our quick response today was shaped by experience. In 2021, an EF4 tornado tore through our area, destroying over 1,700 homes. That storm scared us to death in a way you don’t forget. It taught us a hard but valuable lesson: when the warning comes, you don’t debate, you don’t watch out the window, and you definitely don’t finish what you’re doing first. You take cover immediately. Fear has a way of turning into wisdom when you survive it.

What’s strange is how early this kind of weather is showing up. Tornado season used to feel more predictable, but lately it seems like the seasons themselves are confused. Georgia averages around 30 tornadoes a year, which doesn’t sound like much until you realize the Peach State ranks pretty high for unexpected twisters. We may not have the numbers of Oklahoma, but we make up for it with surprise appearances. Today was a reminder that in Georgia, you keep your bike helmet handy, your weather app open, and your sense of humor intact, because sometimes all you can do is take cover, say a prayer, and hope the laundry room holds.