The Long, Dark Night

It was a dark, stormy night.  Blizzard warnings and storm warnings appeared on the crawl across the bottom of our television screen. Fify-five mph wind gusts. Blowing and drifting snow. Temperatures plummeting 45 degrees from a few hours earlier.  We were cautioned to not go out unless we absolutely had to.  Treacherous road conditions loomed in the night.

It’s April.

It’s Denver.

And something about calling it an Epic Spring Storm just doesn’t seem fitting.  Sixteen degrees is remotely seasonal in my mind.

As it turned out, not so epic at all, but I’m on a roll here, so let’s go with it.

Dancing With the Stars was on.  We were enjoying popcorn and hot chocolate.  Zendaya and Kellie Pickler are our favorites this season.  We were awaiting Kellie’s scores, when all of the sudden our fully locked, French patio doors blew open.

It was a scene right out of a scary movie.  Except the lights didn’t flicker, the dog didn’t bark, and no colorful apparition blew into the room.  Nope. Just the three of us sitting there stunned.

I didn’t mention that the man of the house was traveling all week.  Yep.  That’s the reason for the timing of the epic storm.  I’m sure of it.

Since I was the only adult on scene, and the closest thing to the man of the house, I jumped to my feet.  After quick inspection I realized the pin from the stationary door had come loose—probably from the wind gusts.  I secured it into place and locked the door.  I thought about moving furniture in front of it, but that task seemed daunting.

I texted our sweet neighbors and gave them the head’s up about the door situation.  They would come in a moment’s notice if it happened again.

The wind died down slightly and changed directions.  DWTS was over. Our votes were cast. And it was time for bed. Upstairs.  Away from the door.  Hmm.  How was this going to work?

I crawled in bed.  One child next to me.  One on the floor in a sleeping bag.  It’s how we do things when the daddy is gone.  Izzy assured me that she had prayed, and God had told her the door would not open again.  Bless you Child.

I soon heard the sounds of soft breathing, accompanied by deep sleep.  And then I heard the wind howling outside.  Every creek and thud.  I kept telling myself it was just the wind—55 mph at that.  Then I heard a squeaking sound.  What on earth?  Oh, those darn hamsters on their wheels.  Haven’t you heard of daylight for such tasks?

The clock struck Midnight—ok, just the digital clock turned from 11:59 to 12.  A thought crossed my mind.  If the wind can blow those doors open, surely a person could use the same force and walk right in.  Surprisingly I didn’t linger on this little thought.  I mean really.  Who would be out in such weather anyway?

Note to self:  Get that door fixed.  TOMORROW!