When I went into work
May 19, 2013, to cover a local tornado I felt mildly inconvenienced. It's selfish but it's an emotion common to many journalists: We cover too many depressing topics to take things too personally. We become experts at compartmentalizing so we can get the job done and get the job done well. Still, with that said, I wasn't prepared for the next afternoon's EF-5 tornado in Moore, Okla. May 20, 2013, is a day that will live in my mind forever.
This is my photo essay on my day's experience:

Sirens go off around 2:30 p.m. in Norman. The entire building takes shelter in the basement. I grab my purse and notepad and continue transcribing notes while we wait for the all clear — it's not so much that my work needs to get done that urgently, but I need to distract myself from what the radio is saying. Tornadoes terrify me. We're told we can head back upstairs. We turn the TV on in the newsroom, and I feel sick to my stomach as I hear the meteorologist say over and over the word "deadly." We know this is going to be bad, but we're not sure how bad. I think about how my pre-assigned beat for tornadoes is the hospital beat. I try to brace myself for the worse: For an unimaginable amount of injuries and death. All I feel is numb. The meteorologist is tracking the storm, shouting out it's path through Moore. I turn to look at my editor, who lives in Moore, she is quietly sitting behind her desk wiping tears from her eyes. She calls her house to see if the line still works and we both pray that her home is still standing. We continue to watch footage for minute after horrifying minute until it appears it's coming to an end. We're given the all clear to head out to the scene and I load up with my coworker, Caitlin, to see what we can cover. She's the education reporter and we decide our first goal will be to find one of the schools that's been hit.