Half way to eternity

A red monstrous cloud appeared in the west. It was a terrifying sight, promising to bring chaos and change. We were at Centenial park, just beginning our public barbecue when we saw it. I hastily gathered my children and thanked God we had the preacher with us because he had his van; this was not going to be walking weather.
It hit within minutes. Red dust so thick that we could hardly see or breath. Winds of 100kilometres an hour raced around, taking whatever was in their path. As our party of thirty or so peOople were driven, crammed together, back to our camp we all watched in a shared fascination at the power of the wind as we passed roofs blowing off buildings and whole streets of trees down.
I was expecting that all my belongings in our flimsy tents, would be no more. I did not care for I was filled with love and gratitude for my children and the protection we had been given.
When we got back it was heroes we met at the camp who had somehow moved forty people's tents, swags and washing inside the cultural centre where we were staying. This centre in Kalgoorlie, our half way mark, is an old converted house. This amount of tents, mostly still opened was quite a sight. All our belongings had been picked up, stirred and thrown together. We were all contained in this house, forty people, tents and stuff and a cylconic storm outside whose rain arrived after we got safely inside. Finding places to sleep was not easy but I secured a little corner for us. I slept in the only place left which as I finally went to bed after all the sorting, discovered that it was a walking machine I was sleeping on. The irony of that was too much and I crashed onto sleep laughing.
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