Storm Mood

A cool breeze brushes past my face and dances in my hair. Drops of rain are falling in nonspecific patterns along the sidewalk. Hidden under the sweet sour smell of Milford's feedlot, the wind carries another smell, one so familiar and distinct and yet you have to stop and think to place it.

It is the smell of the ground unthawing, a shift in the wind, trees budding: spring.

The best part is still to come, following the arrival of this season of change, the clouds and the weather man are foretelling its arrival: a storm. They better not let me down. I could use a good storm. The intense build up of electric charges and tension in the air are exciting. I used to hate storms when I was younger but I have sense gotten over that fear and have developed a liking for them.

I can't wait to hear that roll of thunder that seems to linger in the distance, anticipation building from within. Sometimes this buildup brings false hope and empty promises while the storm remains distant. You almost give up hope. All of a sudden it is upon you, swooping down, taking you by surprise. The wind blows, rain beats against the rattling windows, and lightening bolts light up the sky. The feelings this meteorological phenomenon evokes are liberating, a symbol of mother nature letting go of built up anger. I empathize with her and in doing so release some of my own emotionally charged build up along the way.

I hope we get one soon... I am in the mood for that rush.

RW