They were grey and thick and covered every inch of the sky that could be seen from this little ditch in the hills. Lightning cut a jagged line across the heavens, a crash and rumble following close on its heels. Fat drops slapped my shoulders as I paced across the pavement, the cool air and the temperamental wind painting a smile across my face.
I had gone to sleep in the wee hours of the AM, having trekked across Moscow for an hour twice that night. I was thinking, and wishing my tired head was clear enough to make sense of the thoughts. I slapped some signs and punched some furniture I’d been trying to get rid of for a few weeks. I’d been told it was fun. True, but also a little hard on the knuckles.
I fell asleep, life still stirring my brains, in a creaky bed with no covers. It’s been too hot lately. To top it all off, I’ve got this sore throat that’s receding, but not quite gone.
I woke late this morning, my sinuses killing me. I thought it must be the sickness, though in other respects I felt better than the previous day. It didn’t matter. I had a package to deliver, and I set out to get the job done.
As I made my way towards Main, I saw the black clouds, heard a faint rumble in the distance. The air was alive, and it was changing. The pressure in my head was the atmosphere making its mood known. I watched with excitement as the sky grew dark and the storm began to build. By the time my package was in the mail and my feet were turned homewards, it was in full swing.
I curled up inside as the tin roof sang and trees bent this way and that. Country sang like a voice from home, and the staccato of the laptop keys formed a counterpoint to the shimmering sound of the water around me. It was a dark story that needed to be written in dark weather.
Now the sky is blue and the breeze is cool. The sun shines down like nothing ever happened, and the green grass smiles up at me from my seat beside the window. My story is written, and off to its first editor. My sore throat is all but gone, and this hot chocolate should finish it off.
In East Texas, you learn to be thankful for the sunny days and the storms. The one means freedom to run and play, the other means the trees keep growing, the grass stays green, and the flowers will bloom for another year. We’re all a little better for the gullywashers.