“Get your bag! We’ll meet you in the basement!”

The first words I heard that day.

The power was out.

The sun wasn’t up.

The sirens blared.

I was born and raised in Alabama — I knew the drill: shove everything I value into a backpack, grab a change of clothes, and run to the “safe place.”

We sat in the basement — waiting; listening; praying.

We heard the winds controlling the trees — bending them like straws; snapping them like toothpicks.

Moments later, we heard the comforting words of James Spann saying the storm had passed McCalla. We could come out of our “safe place.”

We saw little property damage around us — a fishing boat was capsized, furniture had fallen in the lake, and large limbs were covering the yard. Nothing too extraordinary for bad weather.

Normally after the storm passes we return to our regular routine, but that day we were warned of storms to come and decided it would be best to stay home. We spent my dad’s birthday in the dark, preparing for the storms heading our way. Little did we know, that early morning storm would be only 1 of the 62 tornadoes to touch down in Alabama on April 27, 2011.

A little before 5:00 p.m., we heard Tuscaloosa’s sirens blaring in the distance with Jefferson County’s sirens not far behind.

On the radio, James Spann’s voice was pleading his listeners with urgency:

“Get in your safe place, now!”

“No one should be on the roads!”

“If you are driving in Tuscaloosa, pull over NOW!”

“If you are in Tuscaloosa County, you need to be in your safe place NOW!”

5:10 p.m., the tornado touched down in Tuscaloosa; ripping through the streets of a beloved college town; taking 6 of our students lives with it.

This mile wide monster came roaring in at 170mph and consumed everything it could while flattening anything else in its way.

As the beast left the ruins of Tuscaloosa, its winds slowed for a moment, falling from EF4 to EF3, but as the storm approached the small town of Pleasant Grove, it regained momentum, returning to an EF4 with 170-190mph winds.

The storm now had an additional deadly weapon: debris.

The people of Pleasant Grove prepared for their “safe places” like never before. Mattresses, pillows, thick winter coats, heavy duty gloves, steal toe boots… they were no longer too concerned for their valuables — only their lives.

The debris from Tuscaloosa became projectile rain over the Birmingham areas of Concord and Pleasant Grove.

Hearing about the storm was tearing through Tuscaloosa, I worried for the campus; the students; the stadium; the devastation.

But hearing the storm was ripping apart Pleasant Grove, I cried for my precious hometown; my childhood friends; my loved ones; my family; my mimi.

We made our way to Pleasant Grove that night, only to find the city’s entrance barricaded. The man in a camouflage uniform told us we could walk in, but could not drive; the area was declared a “disaster zone.”

Crowds of people were parking and walking.

Some were rushing; panicked.

Others, walking slowly; sobbing; gripping one another; hoping their loved ones were alive; but preparing themselves for the worst.

The storms had taken out cell towers. Even if your phone was charged and working, sending a text was nearly impossible that night; much less making a phone call.

My 89-year-old grandmother was the reason we went that night. She had taken refuge in her hall closet. Her neighbors found her there — still bunkered down; shaking; afraid the storm was not over. She walked outside to find her neighbors’ homes wiped away; a street reduced to slabs. Her house had minimal damage and we can do nothing but praise God for that.

The monstrous storm made a path through three Alabama counties: Greene, Tuscaloosa, and Jefferson.

Though there were 62 total tornadoes in the state of AL on April 27, 2011, the “Tuscaloosa-Birmingham EF4 Tornado” alone, left us with:

$2.4 billion worth of property damage

1500 people injured

65 lives lost

6 UA students taken too soon.

Today, six years later, we look around our precious Tuscaloosa and see regrowth, rebuilding, and reminders of that devastating day.