At 5 a.m., I packed a bag and drove toward the tornado.

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I watched it happen from my living room in Louisville.

It was just after 10 p.m. on December 10th, 2021, and the radar on the TV glowed an ominous red- the kind of red that makes your stomach drop. The rotation was unmistakable. A monster was tearing across western Kentucky, and for a terrifying moment, we wondered if it was heading our way.

I was on standby, ready to rush into the TV station if Louisville became the target. But after ripping through Mayfield, then Dawson Springs, then Bowling Green, the storm lost its grip and fizzled out before reaching us.

Relief washed over me. For just a minute.

By 11:30 p.m., the first images started trickling in. Mayfield's city hall- gone. The clock tower in the heart of downtown had been knocked from its foundation and was surrounded by red lights and rubble. That's when I knew. This was catastrophic.

By midnight, I was on the phone with my news director. "I'm ready to go," I told him. "I want to go."