Storm watching

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . September 28, 2009 . 11:19AM

When I was little, I used to sit on my front porch and watch the rain with my grandfather. No one ever told me that rain or thunderstorms were something to be feared. There was even a time I saw a small funnel, the very endings of what must have been something fearful, across the dirt road from my house. This isn’t to say that my family didn’t keep me safe.

I remember one time when my cousins and I were in my grandparents basement during a storm. Clearly, it had to be after Easter, as we had each dragged a bag of candy onto the bed downstairs and we were bartering candy to one another so that “no one would starve for the duration of the storm.” Melodramatic little beasts, weren’t we?

There is something about a good storm that appealed to my grandfather. I don’t think he could explain it, however, because I have inherited it and I can’t explain it, myself. Rain, thunder and lightening are peaceful to me. They soothe me.

It could be because they remind me of him. He’ll always be the father figure in my life and he’ll always be my hero. Maybe the rain reminded him of someone.

Maybe it just had the “cool” factor that it has for my son, AJ. He likes nothing more than to stand in the rain. He’ll curl up next to me and use his cajoling voice and ask me sweetly if he can wear his rain coat and boots and stand outside. I smile just as sweetly and tell him no. Most times.

But part of me, that part that is still the child on the porch, smiles sweetly back and, now and then says, “Get them on. You’ve got 10 minutes and if you see lightening, get back in here.”

There’s just something about a thunderstorm.