Thunderstorms

I love the smell in the air when a thunderstorm is moving in. It’s a damp smell. The air feels heavier but not unbearable.

I remember many times watching clouds roll in and embracing the change in the air; the smell, the temperature, the look of the sky.

Then once the storm started, a taste like none other. It was pure water. There was no flavor or fizz… just water running from heaven into our mouths.

I remember summer storms where the storm didn’t remove the heat, but soaked us in a hot, deluge of water. The rain cleaned the play off our bodies to prepare us for another game.

I remember thunder that shook the house and lightning that took the power. Sometimes it was so dark from the clouds that the lightning was the only flash that revealed what was going on. Sometimes we sat on the porch and watched the rain; sometimes we ran off and played in it.

The potholes were made for splashing and stomping. The grass would become greener – the flowers would become brighter – the trees would become stronger.

I know longer play in the rain or stomp in the potholes. I worry about the roof leaking or the basement flooding or how can we travel in the power of the storm.

I still love the smells before and after the rain. I still open a drape and watch the splashing of the drops in puddles. There is nothing like the rain.