The Comfort of Thunder

Last night a fairly violent storm rolled through central Indiana. It wasn't the most serious storm I've seen since I moved here but it was the biggest one that happened while I was home in my apartment. The first twenty minutes or so were the most ferocious, and before long I was sitting in the dark with no power.

For the next two hours, I sat by the the open window to get some light, fresh air, and to just watch and listen to nature's fireworks show.

My thoughts drifted...

I remember the worst storm I was ever caught in, a few years ago. My friend LM and I were camping about two miles from Graveyard Fields on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The storm caught us by surprise and it was too late to try to hike two miles in the dark to get back to the saftey of the car. We considered it, briefly, but in the end we decided that we had chosen a good safe spot far enough uphill from the stream that we didn't need to worry about flash floods.

I have to admit that as the storm brewed around us while we huddled in the tent, I was nervous. LM was nervous too, and she let it show a little. I think that helped me actually. I remember the comfort I felt as I kept my arm around her... perhaps drawing as much strength from her as I was offering to her. Those hours, especially after the worst had passed, sitting in the dark listening to the thunder and watching the flashes of light as they shone through the tent, were two of the most peaceful hours of my life.

I missed LM last night.

It's not the first time I've missed her. But it was the happiest time I've missed her. I love thunder.