Last May 8, Amber Parker was alone with her sons, Will, 3, and Avery, 1, while her husband was out of town. Like thousands in the Triad, she was watching TV, aware of a violent storm barreling toward Davie and Forsyth counties.

After putting Avery to bed, she decided to stay up with Will until a tornado warning was lifted.

The clock ticked toward 10 p.m. Parker sat riveted by the TV coverage of the storm.

The wind began to rage and torrents of rain fell. She soon noticed the wind rotating and saw the sky turn green. Was it time to wake the baby and take cover, she wondered.

In the second it took to ponder that question, the wind and rain came to an abrupt halt.

"That's when I knew it was here," Parker said. "I was in it, and I had waited too long."

Tornado season, which stretches from March to June, reaches a peak in North Carolina this month. Of the 16 tornadoes that have touched down in Forsyth County since 1973, the four most destructive tore through the county in May. Three of them, including one in 1989 that cut a wide swath through Winston-Salem, hit between May 5 and 8.

Spring is a particularly ripe time for severe weather because of profound shifts in temperature that create turbulence in the atmosphere.

When the warm air in the lower levels of the atmosphere mix with the cooler air in the middle and upper atmosphere, the air becomes unstable, said Jason Beaman, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service in Raleigh.

"That is fuel for storms to develop," he said.

About 800 tornadoes are reported in the country each year, resulting in 80 deaths and more than 1,500 injuries, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
North Carolina averages 19 tornadoes a year, Beaman said.

That number is low compared with states such as Texas and Oklahoma, but nighttime storms are particularly deadly in North Carolina. Since 1950, 82 percent of the state's tornado fatalities have happened at night, said Jeff Orrock, a meterologist with the National Weather Service in Raleigh.
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For several terrifying minutes last May, Parker feared she and her children would be among those who died in nighttime tornadoes.

After everything outside fell silent, Parker ran for Avery. She put him on her hip and gripped Will's hand as he navigated down the steps as quickly as a 3-year-old can.

They were headed to their pre-designated "safe place," an interior closet underneath the steps.

Meanwhile, the supercell thunderstorm that produced a tornado in Davie County crossed the Yadkin River and spawned a second tornado that touched down near Hampton Road, a few miles from the Parker's home.

The twister slammed against barns and homes, passed over wooded farmland and grew more fearsome as it roared toward Parker and her neighbors with winds exceeding 136 mph.

Parker's ears popped like a machine gun as she and the boys raced toward the closet. As she reached for the door handle, a deafening crack penetrated the roar of the wind. The roof had been ripped off.

The next second, Parker and Will were picked up and placed in the closet, an act that she said was the hand of God at work.

Once inside the closet, Parker, with Avery still on her hip, and Will were hurled against a wall.

Will screamed as walls collapsed around them.

"We're going to die," Parker thought to herself.

Within a few minutes, everything was still. Will was no longer screaming. A pile of debris pinned down her legs. A sheet of dry wall pressed against her face. A busted water pipe spewed water. She could feel that Avery was alive and unhurt. A beam that had fallen between her and Will kept her from reaching him.

"What if I call his name and he doesn't answer?" Parker thought to herself.

"Will?" she called.

"Mommy," he answered. "I can't find you."

His voice filled her with hope and strength. Everything was OK. They had survived. Within minutes, the neighbors of Bridgepoint would pull together and rescue the Parkers from the mountain of debris that had collapsed around them.
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The Parkers' house was one of three that was destroyed that night by a storm that NOAA estimated caused $2.5 million in damage.

In the weeks that followed, neighbors in Bridgepoint found strength in each other. They checked up on one another, shared dumpster bins and helped each other clean up.

The Parkers moved into a rental house near West Forsyth High School and sorted through what was left of their home. They lost furniture and sentimental possessions. But Parker brushed off the loss. Her sons were alive. Everything else could be replaced.

The Parkers decided they owed it to their neighbors to rebuild on a lot they had lived on since 2001.

"It would've been easier to take the money and find something else," Parker said. "But these people came out after a tornado and risked their safety to help us. We didn't think twice about rebuilding here."

Insurance covered the cost of rebuilding. And in October, the Parkers moved back into their house. They are occasionally reminded of the tornado's fury. Their yard, which is slowly returning to its former lushness, is pocked with shards of glass and dishes. They have even found sippy cup stoppers in the front yard.

Will, whose memories of the night are vivid, had occasional nightmares. He and his mother both get on edge during storms.

"I don't know if that will change," Parker said. "It's something we're trying to work through."

They have both developed an interest in storm-chasing shows on TV.

Parker recently attended a class that the Office of Emergency Management held on severe storms. She said she wanted to learn more about storms because they are so terrifying.

"And I don't want to be terrified of anything," she said.

In a few weeks, Amber Parker and her husband, David, plan to have a pig picking and invite their neighbors. The mood will be celebratory, she said.

"We want to let everybody reflect on what happened, and say, 'Thank you,"' she said.