Things Mo Likes #2: Thunderstorms

During our massive thunder and lightning storm yesterday, my mom and I marveled at the fact that we haven't experienced a storm like this in quite a while. It was a sight to see, the sky looking like week-old curdled milk, and the sun on the fringes of the clouds casting an eerie glow.

My mom is a reasonable (ish?) person, but she can be very superstitious. To her, the storm was a reflection of the tumult and aggression that was going on in the world. Nature was sucking up all of our negativity with a straw and was spiting it back at us because we gave her indigestion. "It's truly a sign of the times", she said.

Personally, I think it probably had more to do with global warning, but I wasn't going to let all of this get in the way of a truly kick-ass thunderstorm. I decided to hole up in my room and watch it as it raged.

I turned out all of my lights and opened the windows just a crack to let the cool, charged air in. It made my skin tingle, and I could almost smell the electrons. The rain came down in confused, halting spurts: fat drops one minute, needle-like spears the next.

Then the lightning came, renting the sky with ragged beams of light, followed by the thunder, bringing up the rear with sonic booms that rattled the walls. I could hear my nieces frightened squeals downstairs every time a thunderclap hit. The sounds swirled themselves into a bizarre symphony of terrified yelps, pounding rain, and rumblings from every corner of the sky.

At around 11, it began to lose momentum, the lightning fading away under an ashen, overcast sky. And at midnight, the thunder and rain sputtered and died. It had been a sonic mess, a cacophonous disaster, and the most beautiful firefight ever.

My skin is still tingling.



Originally posted on Facebook, July 27, 2009