Forecast

There are many things I love about Brad, but one of them is not his obsession with watching the Local on the 8s over and over on the Weather Channel. He is not physically capable of turning it off. I often playfully fuss at him, reminding him of how much his obsession resembles the same one of my father's, and occasionally, he grins and looks away, glancing to see how close we are to the latest radar.

As much as Brad's obsession with Storm Tracking bugs me, I think it was my fate to marry a man who loves Jim Cantore almost as much as he loves me.

For the last two years, dramatic weather has marked major events in my life.

Two years ago on March 1, 2007, Columbus was attacked by major tornadoes. The storm leveled much of my parents' neighborhood, tearing giant trees from their roots, destroying power poles and lines, and even changing the physical landscape of their neighborhood. On that night in 2007, my mom was mostly unconscious at Columbus Hospice. She hadn't spoken to us or opened her eyes in days, but on that night as we evacuated her bed into the hallway of Hospice, she gripped mine and Amy's hands a little tighter, sensing that something was wrong. Hours after the storms subsided, Amy, John, Leslie, and I decided to return home to survey the damage and get a few hours of sleep. About 4 hours later, we received the call from the Hospice nurse that her breathing had changed and we needed to come right away. In the calm of the early morning, my mom breathed her last breath and hurt no more. I will never forget driving west on JR Allen Parkway that morning of March 2, looking into a bright pink sunrise framed by a giant rainbow. I've never seen colors so brilliant, and I didn't think I'd see that kind of rainbow ever again.

I was wrong. On my wedding day, misty rain made for dramatic clouds a few hours before the ceremony. I was worried that rain would threaten our semi-outdoor reception arrangements... I didn't want my hair to fall flat... I wanted to get great outdoor photos... I didn't want the day to be humid. But while we were taking pictures on the church's front steps, I understood the rain's purpose of the day. I looked out and saw the same sky-framing rainbow as before. I hadn't seen a rainbow in over a year and a half, since the day mom passed on. She sent it to me.

And here, two years later on the first and second of March 2009, Columbus was again plagued with violent tornadoes and unusually heavy snow. In Athens, Brad and I lost power for about 15 hours due to over 8 inches of snow. We watched and listened as branch after branch came crashing down to the ground with no regard for house or home. But after the splitting and cracking subsided, we were met by a stillness that can only be brought by snow. In that white, silent night, I was reminded of the powerful weather two years earlier. How violently the storms shook our house, Columbus Hospice, and our lives, only to be followed with the peace and beauty of a rainbow.

Maybe I was destined to live a life with dramatic weather.

And maybe I was destined to marry a man who could prepare me for falling barometric pressure, help rebuild what storms had broken, and pray with me in the peace of fallen snow.

Ok, ok. He can watch the Local on the 8s.