The rumbling was starting to get to me. The sound of the trees falling and the house that I've grown up in for these past 14 years, crumbling beneath our feet.
“To the basement!” barked my mom.
“What? Why-” I started.
“NOW,” my mom said with building fury.
I ran upstairs and grabbed my favorite blanket.
“Avery!” my mom yelled up the stairs. “We don’t have time for this right now. Go to the basement, NOW!”
I realized that this wasn’t any type of joke. This. Was. Real.
“Honey? Come down please,” my mom said with a worried voice.
I snapped out of my daze, grabbed everything I could and, being careful to not drop anything, sprinted downstairs to the embrace of my mom. My mom and my little brother followed me down the stair to the so-called, “Hurricane Hangout.” When we got inside, my mom locked the steel door, making sure it wouldn’t open to keep us safe for the span of the many, many hours ahead of us.
“Mommy?” my brother's little voice asked. “Are we gonna die?”
I started to realize how he must feel. A 6-year-old probably doesn’t understand the dangers of a hurricane or the fact that our house will never be the same after this.
“Sweetie, there’s nothing to worry about,” comforted my mom. “Just sit tight with me. Oh! Here are some board games!”
“Mom?” I questioned.
“What is it, Avery? What do you need?” my mom sighed.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said while holding back what I really wanted to say. How I wanted her to really tell us, are we going to be okay? What are we going to do after this passes over? It’s not going to be normal. Our lives will have changed, and not for the better.