Sure, if you are like me, you have the song going through your head ~ or at least the tune, if you aren't a lyric freak like me. But the song rings true. I DO love a rainy night. I DO love to hear the thunder and watch the lightening as it lights up the sky. It DOES make me feel good.
Problem is, I sleep so well through rainstorms. It stinks when I wake up and realize that I completely missed it. My perfect evening would be sitting, watching the storm, relaxing, and then going to bed while it's still raining and falling asleep to the sound of it pelting whatever resistance it meets.
The only other problem with heavy rain is that I am now a homeowner with a cracked foundation. Makes me sad that my mind goes to "uh oh, is there water in the basement?" now. That will only be a temporary issue though, just takes the time (and money) to get it fixed.
I believe ~ and since it's my mind, my memory it's more a statement of knowing ~ that there are a couple of things that contribute to my affection for thunderstorms. When we (me and my brother) were little, we lived in a "starter home" (that cost my parents $13,000 in 1970) in what use to be an OK area in Porter County ('Shire' for any Aussies that might stumble upon this). It was a simple house with a big (in my 4 year old minds eye it was GINORMOUS) picture window. This was the 70's, so there was of course pea green shag carpet and an olive couch involved too. This couch was 15 feet long. OK, it was a standard couch, but I was 4, so my brother & I could both lay at opposite ends and not touch each other - very important for a 4 & 6 year old.
When it would rain, we knew that Dad, a new construction plumber, would be on his way home. we would lay on the couch, our heads on Mom's lap. I was usually on the south end, brother on the north. She'd give us a snack, I seem to recall Nutter Butters (I was never fond of peanut butter, but I didn't mind those - they had sugar and chocolate after all). We would just lay there watching the storm clouds waiting for Dad.
I am not sure which part of the memory is most comforting, the patiently waiting for Dad, the quiet time with Mom, Dad actually getting home...I like to think it's all of it. It's my memory, so I guess I get to declare that it is in fact all of the above.
Another fond memory of sky watching is my Grampa. Their house in Gary (yes, there are nice areas on Gary...) was lined with a half dozen or so maple trees. I remember Grampa & his dachshund sitting there looking for shapes in the clouds. I would lay on the ground next to him in his chair watching and trying to see the same shapes and/or find my own.
Simpler times? Probably not...I am sure in many ways, they were tougher. Grampa lived through the Depression, fought in a War in a land where his mother & father had left as young adults, didn't have much money, but made muddled through.
But, watching clouds and waiting for loved ones to come home is a simple concept and one that I think I want to make more time for. Care to join me?
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