four p.m. our meeting room grows dim as the skies darken to a threatening grey. thunder builds, its rumblings drawing closer with each passing minute. the wind picks up. soon, rain pours down in loud orchestral rhythms…. after a short while, the rain lightens and the thunder rolls away, growing more distant though continuing its undulations. the storm appears to have passed…. the rain picks up once again, hitting sharply against the stone entryway and pattering against rooftops. the air continues to cool and the world feels calm. within 45 minutes from its beginning, the rains quiet down and the cloud cover begins to break up. the sun glints through, casting a soft luster on the world. birds reawaken with song and a rooster crows in the distance. the cool earth sighs; i feel at peace.
seven thirty p.m. i sit outside, capturing passing thoughts in my journal against the waning light. the air feels refreshing and light against my skin. the power has gone out, and the meeting room glows in candlelight. others rely on the glow of flashlights to peruse books and continue conversations. suddenly, the lights jump back to life, flooding with space with a harsh brightness. our eyes adjust, and we carry on with our pursuits.
nine p.m. lightning flashes against the dark spaces outside our windows, momentarily washing everything in strobing, bluish illuminations. thunder builds once again, now keeping rhythm with the flickering bursts of light. sheets of rain spill down once again. i step outside to breath in the storm, rooting me in this place, familiar to my childhood home, making me feel comforted and safe.
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