When you’re young thunderstorms seem scary.
I was petrified of thunderstorms growing up. Whenever I heard there was a thunderstorm watch, I wouldn’t even wait for a warning, I would pack up my backpack with my essentials at that time: A clean pair of clothes, multiple stuffed animals, and any money I had saved from my allowance. I would go hide in the unfinished basement with my survival bag and explain to my parents that I just had the urge to clean the basement. Most of the time they played along with my fear and let me go into the basement. Hell why wouldn’t they? They were getting a an area of their house cleaned without complaining! With each crack of thunder and every strike of lighting my heart would race and fear would fill my veins.
As I got older, my fear of storms have decreased. In fact, now, I find comfort in storms. Especially late night storms.
Tonight’s storm raged outside with vengeance. The windows rattled with fear, wind whistled past the house, thunder cried out from the darkness, the house quavered on its foundation, lighting incessantly lit up the pitch black sky. This storm was not leaving without a fight.
Although I would have loved to sleep through the night without a barrage of thunder waking me, I am enjoying the company of the storm. Something about this storm tonight soothes me. I find comfort in knowing that even nature needs to scream sometimes.