Thunderstorms in May

I remembered, this evening, a summer Sunday that occured just after I graduated from high school. One of the most magnificent thunderstorms I have ever seen was underway outside. My family, in usual Sunday evening style, had scattered throughout the house with games, books, and journals. I think Levi and Eric were probably bickering over who got to pick the story my dad would read next. I slipped on my favorite flip-flops, worn blue stripes from a trip to Spain, and wandered out to the front porch.

As I sat with my knees pulled up to my chin, my beautiful mother joined me for a moment of quiet. She could have told me to put on a jacket, asked me what in the world I was doing, or chided me for getting my good pants dirty by sitting on the dusty cement, but she didn't. She sat next to me. We watched the storm for quite a while. The thunder reminded me of the old legend about the gods bowling in the sky, and I have never seen lightening spread across the sky in veins and rivers like that. Midnight blue hung high above us, and it turned a deep purple in the intermittent flashes. Contrasting with the rumbling thunder, the leaves and branches of our trees swished quietly in the sweeping wind. The air smelled intensely clean. It was more fresh than fruit or grass or even spring water. I felt like I could do anything.

My mother was perfectly still beside me, and it seemed like we had never communicated more clearly than we did at that moment in absolute silence. I don't know if she felt the same way. I do know that at that moment I loved her so much it made my stomach knot up. She was my mom and she understood thunderstorms and quiet and how I felt. After a few more seconds she gave me a hug and softly reminded, "Don't stay out too long." She went inside and I followed not long after. I have loved thunderstorms since that day. I still watch the lightening and think of my mom.

Tonight the weather changed faces and became reminiscent of winter yet again. I looked out the window and did not see a thunderstorm. Instead I saw rain and snow mixing together as they descended heavily. The sky was a thick gray. Thunder was missing, and it was uncannily quiet. It was a lonely quiet, not like the peace of warm summer rain.

I grabbed my fluffy white towel and turned on a steamy shower hoping to wash away the feeling. I guess my melancholy mood was not to be thwarted because the water was cold. Of course, it didn't warn me before I got in. It started out hot and faded to a dull chill. The worst! I hastily exited wishing for steam, sunshine, and most of all, my mom.

I'm wearing a turtleneck sweater now and am sitting on my bed with a pile of pillows behind my back. I feel fresh scrubbed. Cozy. The rain has stopped and black is creeping into the color palette in the sky. Everything seems calm. The cold is just outside now and the rain has left everything hopeful and unsoiled. I think it's time to call my mom. Maybe this Mother's Day May will let us share a thunderstorm. I love you Mom!