Tuesday, June 28, 2011


I'm pretty sure I was smack dab in the middle of a good dream when a clap of thunder rocked the foundation of my house around 5 o'clock this morning. I bolted out of the covers, oh so certain a 747 had landed in my bedroom.

After my unexpected wake-up call, I realized it was just a strong thunderstorm and nestled back down under my toasty covers to enjoy the show. My crank-out window had been open all evening and the sound of the rain lulled me in and out of a drowsy sleep. The flashes of lightning were nearly constant--more 80's dance nightclub than peaceful light show but I was entranced nonetheless.

I have written many a time of my love for bad weather. As a young girl I would play the counting game to see if a storm was moving closer... A bolt of lightning would flash and I would start counting 1...2...3...4...5...6... CLAP! The thunder would boom. So, on the next flash of lightning I would begin to count 1...2...3...4..5 CLAP! Oooh! "I only got to five," I would exclaim! It's coming this way! My heart would race anticipating swirling winds and a thunderous invasion which would require me to leap under the nearest blanket for safety. I have no idea if my theory of counting in between thunder and lightning is a true indicator of a storm's position. But it sure did make for some fun childhood memories.

This morning I lay alone in the bed (Keith is in St.Louis) and relished my private light show. My slow inhale/exhale reflected my relaxation and I honestly did not want it to come to an end. I'm thinking a day of nasty weather and absolutely nothing to do sounds like a little piece of heaven to me.

A girl can dream, can't she?

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