Silence. Flash. Crash. Rumble. Boom. Crackle.
I sit in bed, listening to the sounds of the storm roaring outside my bedroom window. My heart flutters in my chest. I hear the thunder rolling through the sky and cringe. Too loud. Too big. Too startling.
"It's gonna be a big one." I say to my sister. I was right. And then the rain came, splattering down onto the pavement, into the grass, turning it into mud.
Small "rivers" slide down the street, glowing from the streetlights.
Plinks inside our chimney. Patters on the windowsill. Splats on the roof.
Voices across the street. Shrieks, laughter. Car doors are slamming, feet are pounding the sidewalk. I glance out my rain spattered window and see a car pull away from the neighbors house and the big green front door of the beautiful stone house close.
I think of everyone who is driving in this storm and I close my eyes and am thankful that I'm inside and safe.
The wind picks up, creaking our old yellow farm house. I see my window blind dance a little from the draft coming through our window. I feel the cool stormy air on my toes. I look outside again.
The sidewalks are covered with puddles-no, pools-of water.
I sigh. No double dutch tomorrow.
I look into the sky. An airplane blinks through the otherwise empty, black sky. There's something past that blackness though, and I know it. Somewhere up there, angels are laughing, eating popcorn and sipping sodas. They're renting shoes that fit perfectly and carrying balls that weigh nothing.
They're looking down smooth, gleaming wooden lanes to white pins standing, waiting to be toppled over.
They take their deliciously perfect balls and bring their arms back, softly brushing them against their snow-white wings. And they're bringing their arms forward, watching the ball drift towards the pins gracefully.
And they rejoice every time the pins topple over, sending thundering cheers down to earth.