It was a dark and stormy night
“Was” being the operative word.
Last night, I thought our flimsy little beach house was going to come a-tumbling down, like the island huts on stilts that crash over in tropical storms and we watch in awe on abc7. Our windows rattled and dust came out of my oven vent and all of our poor leafies on the porch got abused and blown about.
This morning there’s just a few remnants of storminess left… the guy next door told me that his backyard umbrella is missing, every leaf in Orange County appeared on our driveway. We are grateful to learn that our house niether leaks nor is as flimsy as last night’s winds would have us think.
Toady the sun is shining again and kids are stomping gleefully in puddles. The only wind that’s howling is the breeze coming in my open truck windows, and the skies are clear-blue and cold.
I’m grateful for dark and stormy nights. I’m amazed by their power and splendor, but I’m glad they blow by. I’m glad that we have a memory of rattled windows, and awake to the promise of new sunshiney mornings, complete with puddles for playing in.
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