I feel like a kid
when it storms.
I still pull the blankets
over my head and
pretend like my bed
is the only safe space.
My brain likes to make
a list of everything that
could possibly go wrong,
like
the house getting struck
by lightning and catching fire.
I know, it probably sounds silly,
fearing storms.
But it’s the what-if
of storms that gets me.
Our dryer caught fire one year
after lightning struck our house.
I remember rushing
to save all of the animals —
cat and birds and dogs
corralled and carried to the van.
I remember my mom having
what could only be described
as a panic attack
after managing to put the fire out.
I remember not sleeping
that night, listening
to the booming thunder
and waiting for disaster.
I wished you were with me
this morning, so I
could feel more light-hearted,
but the rain and the thunder
and the sirens in the distance
kept my heart pounding
as I drove to work.