I sit home this evening, listening to the rain and watching the flashes of lightning punctuate the night sky with their explosive claps of thunder, followed by rolling growls that seem to shake the foundation of the earth as they go on and on and on. I love the sound of stormy weather. I love the scent of the air in the minutes before it starts to rain. I love knowing I have a dry home in which to retreat when the elements get brash and aggressive, urging me to retreat indoors.
This morning, as I listened to the radio in my car, opting not to change stations and, instead, allow NPR to plead for support, I heard a replay of an old StoryCorps segment about Danny and Annie. I’ve heard it three or four times before; every time, it breaks my heart and leaves me in awe of the couple who loved one another so very, very deeply for so very, very long. It works, of course. I can’t NOT support NPR.
Tonight, the rain is not important. Thunder is just noise. Lightning is simply energy. No, that’s not true. But sometimes, when the size of the universe makes us seem small and insignificant, only the conversations we remember really matter.