A loud crash awakens me. I open my eyes to see a brilliant, white sky behind the stark black silhouette of the trees outside our house. The sound of heavy rain gurgles in the gutter and rumbles down the drain spouts. I don’t hear it patter on the roof – our roof is well insulated. I should know. I helped put in that insulation. Another bright flash, quickly followed by a loud rumble of thunder.

I have to pee so I get up out of bed. But it’s not urgent so I walk through the dark room and sit on the sofa next to the living room windows, fascinated by the ever increasing frequency of the flashes. I see no jagged lightning bolts even though that’s what I’m looking and waiting for – only sudden and bright flashes as the white sky pulses beyond the tree line. I count the seconds between the flash of light and the thunder clap. I remember learning as a child that that was how you could tell how far away the storm is. While I no longer remember how the seconds translate to miles I know the storm is very close – each flash followed almost immediately by a very loud crash, sounding almost overhead. Rip van Winkle is playing nine-pins in my backyard.

I realize again that I have to pee. But, being in the country side, without a bathroom, means that I have to pee in my little Pippenette cup and then pour it out outside. I turn on the porch light and see our cat there, sitting on the table, patiently waiting to be let in. He dashes in as soon as the door opens, eager to come in out of the rain and the light and the noise.

After emptying the cup onto the rain-soaked ground, I return to the sofa in the darkened living room and continue to watch the progress of the storm. Each flash of light and crash of thunder startles me, scares me and fascinates me all at the same time. I’m glued to the window and can’t look away. Between the thunder claps, all is silent but for the steady sound of the rain. Between the flashes all is dark. A thunder and lightning storm serves to remind us just how small and unimportant we individual humans are on this great, wide planet of ours. I sit there watching as the seconds lengthen between the flash of light and burst of sound. The flashes become more and more infrequent and the thunder becomes muffled by distance. The storm is moving away.

From my sofa’s vantage point, the sky behind the trees is much lighter than when I first sat down. Dawn is coming – the day is soon awakening but I return to my bed before it does.