Sometimes the sky cries

Yesterday it rained hard for a few minutes but I was stuck inside a window-less room. It makes me sad to miss the sky crying.

Sitting in front of a window watching a storm roll through is one of my favorite sights. The devastation and healing powers a storm brings with it proves powers greater than our own. Serenely taking in the smell of rain and the booming crashes of thunder make me feel like a child again.

I remember hiding in my grandmother’s linen closet during a really bad summer storm as a little girl. My papa stood on the patio listening to the radio and watching funnel clouds off in the distance. Mom had left us just before a tornado touched down to pick up my sister from gymnastics practice on the edge of town. On the way Mom had to pull off the road to the sight of a tornado behind her car. Lucky for her and the other drivers, the tornado spiraled off into a field. She and my sister eventually went to a farmhouse owned by another gymnastics family to weather the storm.

This tornado is similar to ones I’ve seen off in the distance.

By the end of the night the storm had ripped through a few small towns devastating them. I had peaked my head outside of the closet just long enough to hear the dumpster behind my grandmother’s house get struck by lightning. That storm caused the most damage to homes in town with watermelon-sized hail and multiple touch-down tornadoes than I’ve ever seen before or since.

I wish another storm would roll through town tonight.

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