Storm

I love thunderstorms. There is strange attachment to the thunder and the lights striking across the sky. Almost always, a calm settles over me when I see the outward angst of storm clouds.

I am someone who thinks a lot. I reflect. I daydream. I get wrapped up in thoughts that sometimes start spinning.

Life as of late has been especially tumultuous. Nothing horrible, all of it surrounded by joy and gratitude. But there is that underlying panic. I can’t see it. I can’t put my finger on it. But it is there.

Covid is returning? Will so and so lose her cool on me? How are my boys? Are the boys okay? Was that a cough? Where is my husband, safe or stuck at the airport for the night?

The other day I fell asleep instead of going into yet another spin cycle. I was too exhausted to give my mind the energy it needed to run.

When I woke up I wondered briefly, depression?

The storm keeps rolling through. There will be many tonight. But I can see them, hear them, feel them as the drops grow colder and the spring changes on us again.

I will sleep well tonight because, for once, the storm is external. And I am not watching it alone.