The last time that I felt frightened was the night before last. Hurricane Irene was on her way towards our state. All I could think about was ten years ago, while sleeping in my old bedroom, the tree falling on the house. It wasn't a hurricane then but instead, just a big gust of wind, later estimated at 75 mph. The dead of night, 2 am and I was awoken by books falling off the shelve behind me and onto my head, along with branches and water. I was soaking wet. My original shelter and all protecting home was now crumbling under the weight of the tree. The first thing I could think of was to get help. My mother called 911 and I ran across the road to my Uncles house. I realized in the morning that I had run within inches of a downed live electrical wire that had also been taken down by the tree. The fire department came, the first response team was there, and my cousin with his equipment to lift and cut the tree off the house. The emergency team was surprised that we had all made it out alive as the six foot in diameter tree stopped inches above where I had lay on the bed. The whole corner bedroom had been torn away from the rest of the house.
Now here comes Irene and she's pissed off for some reason. The trees around the house are taking the brunt of her anger as they sway back and forth and try not to break.
