The swift air slaps me awake and I gasp, startled and afraid. The blinds blow into the room, floating in front of the window like a ghost. Rain is pounding the grass in my front yard and I get out of bed and feel the screen. Mist dampens the sill and the floor. I push the window down with effort until it slams shut. The blinds relax. The room is silent.
We watch storms come in across the bean field on the other side of the road. We sit protected under our covered porch on a wooden bench and feel the wind change against our face, breathe in the fresh smell of forthcoming dampness, and watch for bursts of light to flash in the clouds. One, one-thousand, two one-thousand—BOOM, the thunder crashes. And we remain on the porch. This is a spectator sport.
image from theenchantedhome.co
Sometimes we sit in lawn chairs in the open garage. As the wind brings the rain closer to our bare feet and legs, we push our chairs back to keep dry. I remember one evening when the sky turned an eerie and beautiful lime green. The wind calmed. We held our breath, waiting for funnel clouds to form in the infinite stillness.
When I was young, I had to be carried out to the school bus when it was raining. Our driveway was dirt and gravel and thousands of worms would writhe on the ground. I couldn’t walk around them, and I refused to walk on them. The neighbor girl offered me her back. I crushed her bookbag as I wrapped my legs around her small body. She carefully but hastily tip-toed down the driveway. I kept my eyes on the ground, my feet safely two feet above the slithering serpents.
What was the scariest storm you lived through? Do you enjoy storms or do you hide under the bed? Set the timer and write it all down.