The weather forecasters have ominously warned of tornadoes, straight line winds and heavy flooding rains for the past two days. My anxiety levels have reached Mt. McKinley highs. But all of the pets? Look like this:
Their nonchallance has me wondering if I am delusional. Am I hyper vigilant over a simple storm?
In my turbulent youth, I loved a good rowdy thunderstorm. Once, following a sleep over at my friend's house, the twins mother called mine to ask her to come and pick me up. It was raining very hard. The winds were roiling.
"No," my mother replied calmly, "She'll want to walk."
And I did. I did want to pull up my scarlett rain boots. Bundle up in my pink slicker. Hop in every puddle from Blendon to Hillsboro Drive. I twirled my round pink patent leather overnighter around me. It took me forty-five minutes to make it home. I sang every minute despite the fact that I have never been able to carry a tune in a bucket.
It was one of the happiest memories of my childhood.