Thereâ€™s something viscerally comforting about that first thunderclap. The suspicion that the electric tension youâ€™ve been feeling the last few hours had nothing to do with the remnants of a frustrating day at the office or that recent fight you had with your mom. Itâ€™s a precarious state of relief mixed with anticipation, knowing that this is just the beginning of a tumultuous moment that (for once) has nothing to do with you. You are allowed to be a little scared and a little tense and this time you donâ€™t have to fix or obsess about a damn thing. While the storm rattling in the distance certainly mirrors the storm of worry and dread in your mind, this time the deluge is not your fault. Flashes of white-hot lightning remind you of that jolt of panic from earlier in the day: did I unplug the flatironâ€¦ did I pay the housecleanerâ€¦ but you need not answer. The thunder has done it for you, rolling along with it the relief of Thank God Iâ€™m not in trouble right now. Tiny patters of rain syncopate with the tapping of your fingertips on the keyboard, desperately trying to keep up with the electronic maelstrom of correspondence and projects that gravely need your attention. Suddenly you canâ€™t keep up, and the rain is even busier than you can even imagine yourself to be. Jeez, at least you werenâ€™t that far behind.
Thunderstorms give me delicious excuses, the least of which is to take it easy on myself.Â Thereâ€™s nothing going on in my life thatâ€™s as treacherous as this storm at this moment. And God bless it if it isnâ€™t just too nasty outside to drive to that engagement Iâ€™ve been avoiding? Snuggling up to you doesnâ€™t mean Iâ€™m needy, I just get a little nervous when the wind blows that hard. When the world outside becomes more perilous than the consternation I feel inside, I find a moment of peace. If nature can get that pissed off, blow off some steam, then let it goâ€¦ well then there might be some hope for me too. Leave it to me to find comfort in my judgementalism of chaotic weather.