confessions of a child

thunder to my lighting

Together the family would count.

They all enjoyed the sight. When hearing the rain pour down upon them, she would follow her sister outside, her smile grew further and further. She was the last one, that jumped on to the swing that was out the front of their house, as they talked and waited, for a storm.

How did people not get the beauty? If it does strike us, it strikes us, do you get it? Maybe there's more to it, she is not strange for liking it.

She used to be scared. Each time lightning hit, she would close her eyes. Worrying, that maybe her house might be engulfed in flames. So her mother thought of a way they could enjoy the storm, together, and it was a genius idea. To make the storm comforting, instead of scary, they would count how long it took to hear the thunder after the lightning.

Every storm, she would hide under her bed. One night her mother took her and her sister onto the swing. As they rocked back and forth, she would put on a brave face, waiting for something to go up in fames. However, nothing ever did, which, was comforting in itself.

Then when lightning did strike, they counted the seconds until they heard thunder. Did she conquer her fear? No, it was so beautiful, that she embraced this beauty, so it became normal to her.

Now she counts the seconds, one after the other. Rain poured down upon her body. First came the lightning, which lit up her sky. Next came the thunder, three and a bit seconds after. She felt alive, watching the shapes the lightning made. The thunder shook the swing, and it made her smile.

She sits alone on the swing. Her family to old, and no one else to do it with. But she's still happy, so happy even that she has learnt to fall in love with the sky. Nobody realises that the sky is your friend. It's not just beautiful when it is emotionless, and neither are people.

After sudden trace from the beauty, she notices that the lightning is closer. Then she starts counting, not focusing on the fire it is known to cause.

Two seconds, on the dot. She rocks back and forth on the swing, enjoy the rain on her legs. Pitter patter. Her friends tell her about their fears of the crying sky, but they never understand the beauty behind it. Its not trying to kill us, it just wants something. Like her.

She feels like part of the sky, to be with or without someone there, she is happy.