Aftermath

 It was a day of wild weather. Tornadoes and deaths to our west. Thunderstorms crept to our very doorstep but then hightailed it east with only a light shower. I, in fact, never heard thunder. And for so stormy a day to the west, we were spared.

 I drove through Miamisburg early in the morning, heading to Bob Evans to meet two relatives for breakfast with Mom. At about 8:30 am, near the intersection of Central Avenue and 4th Street, this is how the sky looked to the northeast.

 The clouds had angry swirls and striations and seemed to almost touch the ground in the distance. But an hour later, the clouds had mellowed, had settled down to a uniform gray. But by late afternoon new storms were just west of us, promising serious destruction. Yet as quickly as they marched towards us, the threat began to dissolve. Just before 6:30 pm, I was outside watching a final renegade storm just to our south approach, coincident with sunset.

 Directly west, the sky was becoming calm and the clouds were breaking. To the southwest, the lone storm approached quietly.

 At times like these, the sky takes on a special majesty while the ground sinks to insignificance. It is the sky that commands our life, the sky alone.

 As the sun sinks, the final remaining storm glows apricot. Lower clouds darken in the shadows of night.There is an eerie windless calm.

 The storm stays silent and drops no rain on us. It seems to break, else slide quietly east, staying to our south. By evening a cold front skids across us, ripping my outdoor thermometer clear free of the kitchen window in a 43 mph blast. The temperature meanwhile plummets, the house rocks, the trees sway.

 We are safe. Less than 1/5 inch of rain has fallen and no tornadoes have dropped from the sky near us. It is as though a line were placed upon the Ohio/Indiana border that said, "Here. Stop. No more."