Magic of a Storm

My mother was afraid of thunder storms so we'd hide in the hallway, between the rooms, where there were no windows. I didn't get to see the sky explode with lightning. Or the holes in the street fill their brims with water. We stood quietly, waiting for it to go by.

He embraced a storm.

Stood on the sea wall in his yellow slicker or out on the porch. His heart pounding with excitement as the booms in the clouds approached.

He'd grab my hand, drag me out of the house, into the rain. An unsafe world of sounds and water drenching me to the bone.

He'd laugh his deep laugh, raising his arms and face to the heavens.

Then gently, he'd dance with me,

in the downfall,

in the magic of a storm.