the memory of thunder

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Like a gaggle of teenage males fresh from a W, the thunder and lightning shouldered their way across the predawn sky this morning, heading northeast and leaving plops and gushes of rain in their wake. In the darkness, their muscular assurance seemed to jostle and laugh and wallow in the wonder of just who or what they were.

The house was awake at 4:30 or earlier, not least because my older son had to get to work by 4. Anyone who has had kids probably knows the feeling -- the old habit of being ready at all hours of the day and night, prepared for the smallest cough or cry or shift in the organism that is 'home.' Though there is no particular need to exercise that old habit these days, still the old habit lingers ... something has changed and finding out what it is brooks no argument.

Sunup ... but today there is no sun ... just light and the plip-plopping of the rain and the memory of thunder.
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