Thunderstorms are for cuddling.
It's finally raining in the desert! Everyone waits for that moment when the dark clouds roll in and actually stay in one place, when they decide to let the rain fall instead of just mockingly pass overhead. And now, it's here. And what a storm it is. Thunderstorms make me thankful for sturdy houses, protection, safety, warmth. They also make me thankful for special moments.
What makes a thunderstorm so special?
There's the anticipation that builds up inside as you see the clouds turn from fluffy white, to gloomy gray. You can never quite be sure if it will actually rain. Just because dark clouds are overhead does not mean a drink for the land. No, not until the gray clouds become black billowing masses can you even start to place your bets on the rain. The dark masses in the sky are silent, yet somehow you know they are powerful. And here you are, staring up at them, completely vulnerable. They could unleash any moment.
Then come the bright flashes of lightning. The sporadic glimpses of powerful electricity in the sky take away little gasps of breath. It can't be helped. The fleeting moment of light in the sky is enough for a split second lift of hope before you are left in darkness. You hold your breath, wondering if your eyes really did catch it. The patterns in the sky are completely unique, unable to be copied. It's up to your eyes and brain to capture the image and hold on to it, if that's even possible.
The silence and anticipatory waiting for the oncoming thunder is almost as bad as the wait for the sporadic lightning. You know what's to follow, and you know how it will sound. And yet, the thunder still manages to surprise you with its loud presence. Its deep and loud entrance ripples through you. Nature's own timpani sounding.
And now, if you're lucky, the rain will follow, pouring down onto the thirsty ground. It comes first as a drizzle, and then rapidly changes to sheets of water falling from the sky. It, too, brings its own rumbling sound. Refreshing and yet not to be messed with when coming down in full force.
All these components are pretty amazing. Thunderstorms truly show (in my humble opinion) nature's force. And somehow, by just being able to witness that, you are a part of the storm. You, as an audience member, are a unique member of a particular storm. Just by observing, you have special access to a unique moment. Each second can't be matched, and you can't hold onto it. Even your memory can't capture the time perfectly. So all that's left is to just be in the moment, taking it all in. If only there was a way to prolong these distinctive yet temporary moments.
Thunderstorms are for cuddling.
