The Beauty of a Storm: It's Hand Tool Sort of Day

Sometime in the night it stormed. I know this because at some point I awoke to the gentle, eerie warning sound of thunder, I was not alarmed and rolled over to continue my rest. Trying to roll back into dreamland I heard the rain pounding on the roof and as I nodded off I remember thinking, “What will the morning bring?”

The morning has arrived and along with it, brought yet another new day. So why had the storm felt the need to awake me in the middle of the night? Why had the gentle eerie warning of thunder not jolted me out of bed as it as always done before? Had it been a dream, had it really stormed at all?


As I stood in the dimness of the kitchen, pouring my first cup of coffee, all those questions just kept repeating in my head. I peered out the window searching for any remnants of what I felt certain was a storm but the sun had slept in and grayness was the color of the morn.

Not to be deterred from the answers to my nagging questions I decided I would enter the grayness. Destination in mind, coffee in hand, I made my way to door. It was the instance I unbolted the lock, pulled open the barrier and took my first step into the grayness that I found all the answers to my questions.

The moment I entered the grayness I felt as if someone had slapped me in the face. Why had the storm awakened me in the middle of the night with that gentle, eerie warning sound?

Because it could and there was not a warning here, but rather a reminder. It was reminding me that I am here, of how far I had come. The fact I had even heard its gentle rumbles made this ever so clear. The thunder had been a gentle wake-up call to the tomorrows yet to come.

I had not bolted to my feet at the sound of this reminder because now I understand. I realize now that unfounded childhood fears are better off back in our youth. That just because you hear an unknown sound does mean harm it will bring. Be cautious and alert but really listen to what you hear.

As I stood in the grayness slowly breathing in the morning air my final two answers appeared with the dimmest ray of light. It had been no dream and what I now breathed in was my proof. There is nothing on earth like the air after a freshly fallen rain. It is the smell and taste of new beginnings.

Had it really stormed at all? Why yes, and now as I survey my surroundings I realize how I know this fact. For the beauty of the story has left me with a mess, all in the shape of tree limbs. It will be a hand tool sort of day.


Technorati Tags: Storms,Random Thoughts,Emotions,Rainbow,Jules