I feel electric tonight, my synapses buzzing, my fingers tingling, my heart fluttering to a new beat. I feel energized and powerful.
Kick start my soul and roar off towards the horizon.
Wipe the maudlin tears off my heart and send me flying.
I'm ready for another new beginning, another new becoming.
The thunderstorm roared and rattled in the distance as I stretched my limbs and relaxed into the company of my parents.
I love a good thunderstorm. For me, the thunder rumbles through my body, shaking my bones and stirring my heart. The sound of the thunder feels like a loud message of "Be Still" that always causes a flush of awe and quiet. The lightning cracks and streaks, illuminating the darkness, jolting the sky to life.
Suddenly, a shrill "CRACK" silenced our easy banter. "We've been hit!"
A spray of party confetti, or was it bark?, showered to the wet grass just feet away from the house, and a wide line of bare pulp was exposed from the ground up to the crown of the pine tree that towered at least sixty feet above. We rushed outside and were confronted with the earthy aroma of rain with a strong layer of burning wood above.
The circuit breakers popped, various gadgets died from the surge. We were left in a gentle incredulity of the experience, a first for all of us, to come that close to lightning.
I love reading (and listening to) Lilian Jackson Braun's Cat Who books. Light and cozy, funny and interesting, these mysteries are centered around Jim Qwilleran, a gruffly wonderful, former crime news writer from Down Below. In his current life, he's a billionaire who lives in Moose County, 400 miles north of everywhere. He keeps two cats, Koko and Yum Yum, and he writes biweekly columns for the local newspaper, The Moose County Something. One of his ploys for coming up with something to write about is to open up the dictionary and pick out a word, any word, and write a thousand words on the topic. I decided I'll do something like that every once in a while, and I'll call them Qwillerages, in honor of Qwill.