Weathering the storm

The thunderclap woke me, the opposite of the natural progression, but as my eyes adjusted to the sodium streetlight, another flash illuminated my darkened bedroom with the intensity of unleashing a flashbulb in a theater. The thunderclap began with what sounded like sticks being broken and rumbled to crack, like a whip.
The winds picked up and the flashes intensified. So, too, the thunder. No need to count one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi. The storm was overhead.
It's well past 2 a.m. and I pick up my water bottle and tip-toe to the balcony and ease into a chair.
The wind is cool on my face; I'm wrapped in a slight piece of navy fabric, actually a blanket airlines give you to try and keep warm at altitude. I wear it like a shawl around my shoulders.
I'm quiet. There are no thoughts to clutter the show. I just sit, sip water, let the storm roll over me.
The girls sniff cautiously at the open patio door; Trin comes out, sniffs the air, turns six circles and lays down at my feet. Scully sticks her head out the door, looks at me, heads back to her dog bed, wanting no part of this pow-wow.
The winds are fierce and Trin and I scan them for scent (she's much better at it and I watch as she makes slight adjustments with her nose to lock onto what blows past).
The lightening tapers off and the smell of rain fills the air, which is cool and heavy.
Several large raindrops hit, stop and then the clouds open up. rain falls in sheets and it's time to evacuate.
I close the windows, pull the shades and all I hear is the patter of rain on the glass.
The bed has grown cool. I slip into the sheets and fall immediately into a comforting slumber.


Anonymous said...

Deeevine… You know how to live :-)