Small town

I am Murfreesboro. I was born here, and raised here, and aside from a 2 month summer camp stint, have lived here all of my 33 years. I work at the hospital I was born in, met my husband there, and had my son there. I have seen this town transform from a sleepy little hollow into a booming college town. But never have I seen the magnitude of sadness as I have these past 2 days.
How do I feel about life after the “Good Friday Tornados?” Roght now it is hard to say. I go back and forth between anger, sadness, gratitude, and the feeling of being violated. I am takeb aback at the wrath of mother nature on the only place I have ever called home.
The aerial footage of destruction are playing with my memories of childhood, as I spot the building I recognize, and than all of a sudden, with the shift of camera angle I a confused and mistake my surroundings for a war zone.
My family moved into Regency Park when I was 12. We watched the foundation being poured and helped design our rooms. We planted almost every tree on the barren lot and built that empty polt into a sanctuary. My aunt and uncle settled in a few streets away, and so that was that side of town always brought a sense of safety and security. I always felt a sense of warmth when I turned into Regency Park drive, passing the big white house on the corner.
I drove those streets too many times to count. My first ticket was a week to the day I turned 16, on Haynes Drive, around the bend next to Tomahawk Trace. I had a wreck and ended up almst on the porch in the house directly across the entrance to the subdivision. I have set at the corner of Sulpher Springs and Haynes Drive, besides the gray clapboard, years before the idea of a turning lane was ever questioned. Working at the movie theater when I was 16, my fave back country road to take to work was Thompson Lane to Manson Pike, driving thru the battlefield, windows down, Tori Amos blasting out the windows of my Bronco.
After Coen was born we spent numerous amounts of hours on the Greenway, going out of my way to my fave trailhead on Thompson Lane so we can gaze into the gorgeous backyards of the amazing houses along Riverview that back up to the river. I know every step of the 3 miles from there to General Bragg.
We drank Boones Farm out at the Elam Road dam, and hung out at Brians off Compton Road.
So I guess you can see why I feel a little violated. This is my home. These are my streets. This isn’t something that happens here. I know that we are all lucky, that more damage didn’t occur, that more people weren’t killed. But things were destroyed, and people were killed. And it breaks my heart.
I love how the town is coming together to help each other. I love seeing the “good ole boys” throw their chainsaws in their trucks and take off. I love watching my 84 year old grandmother help pick up sticks in peoples yards she doesn’t even know. I just hope we can all get past this, and we can get back to a normal way of life………