Close calls and unexpected homesickness

This afternoon, I was putting away groceries in my kitchen and listening half-heartedly to the local news as I stuffed pineapple, salad dressing, lettuce, and veggies into my refrigerator. Then I heard the words “Caruthersville, Missouri,” a town not too far from home. I ran from the kitchen to stand directly in front of the entertainment center, just as the anchor introduced this “amazing video.” The video was of a huge tornado sweeping across the landside coming straight for the camera. I gasped out loud and covered my gaping mouth with my hand.

That was home, a place I don’t see much on the local or national news. And it was being destroyed. I knew my family was okay; I’d talked to various members several times during the day. But standing there, watching a place you recognize–home–be destroyed was devastating. I felt helpless and a strangely frightened, even though I knew all this had happened hours before. My family was safe, but this video made me realize how far away from them I really was. It takes nearly four hours and more than a half a tank of gas to get home. It’s three interstates, four states, numerous bridges and tiny Kentucky backroads, the Mississippi River and the Ohio River, Highways 60 and 25, County Road 672, patience, about 15 CD changes, XM Radio surfing, iPod listening, and conversations with Muffin the wonder poodle before I pull into my parents’ driveway. I’ve often insisted that I live the perfect distance away from home. . .close enough to vist, but not close enough to just drop by. But tonight, when I realized how close disaster had actually come to the people who know me best, whom I love with every bit of myself, it wasn’t close enough.

These days, I’m not often homesick. I haven’t lived in Southeast Missouri for years, really. Nashville is my home, where I’ve become someone other than Mandy Crow, the 1997 salutatorian, smart girl, good girl, one of Keith and Gail’s twins, Ruby’s granddaughter. But when it all comes down to it, I’m still all those things. And just a few hours ago, when I realized how badly this all could have played out, I simply wanted to be back there, to be all those things, to be eating popcorn while watching NCAA basketball, laughing at my brother’s jokes, smiling when my dad called me “Baby Girl,” and kissing my mom goodnight. Sometimes homesickness sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

Damage in Caruthersville: