There are few things more exciting in my mind than to really experience a thunderstorm. One of my fondest memories is sitting on the front porch of my best friend's house, perched above the neighborhood, watching rain pelt down on the street and lightening illuminating the sky. We would run to the grocery store while the winds built before the storm came and get a roll of pre-made cookie dough. We got two spoons and shared it the while rocking in the big swing together. We would chat about first kisses and crushes during the lulls of the storm. The feel of thick summer air vibrating with energy always brings me back to that spot.
In Texas, dark clouds would build over the mountain range over the course of hot, summer days. If you were lucky, those clouds would build and build until they exploded into a fury only nature can create. The hard desert floor couldn't swallow the sheets of rain fast enough and the ground would quickly flood. It was so alien to hop between these small lakes of water in the hot and usually, dry, Chihuahuan desert. One day the clouds exploded while a friend and I were on the side of the mountain. We were on the steepest trail in the park, making our way down. The steep grade was a crumbly, rock substrate that we had to scurry down as quickly as possible. That is, as quickly as possible, without slipping into one of the threatening agaves, waiting patiently on the side of the trail. We found a huge boulder off the side of the trail that gave us shelter from the rain, and more importantly, the lightening. From this spot we could enjoy the show until the clouds disappeared further down into the desert.
Iowa always had amazing storms. Something about all those wide, open spaces made storms even stronger. The wind would whip and the sounds of thunder would shake the house. I knew I should be scared, but I was too excited. Before we moved I was waiting for just one good storm before I left. I watched the forecast (ok so I checked the weather on my phone, but religiously) and each day the little thunderbolt appeared for the upcoming day. Every day came and then went, without a storm. I really thought, aah, the storm gods are just building anticipation and they will come through with a great one for me right before I leave. It didn't happen. It was such a disappointment. I'll try to be an optimist and say that now I can remember the storms in a way that was probably better than they ever were in reality (but really Iowa is just disappointing).
For me small things, like thunderstorms, are some of my favorite things about life. I enjoy what I can often miss if I am too busy. The feel of a warm towel from the dryer, the sight of green leaves swaying in the wind, the taste the first sweet watermelon of the season, the sound of hooves hitting the pavement, or even the smell of tires when you first enter Fleet Farm. Sometimes big things I really look forward to end up letting me down in the end, because I have built them up so much in my mind. It is when I work on being in the present, not ruminating about the past or anticipating the next day, but really experiencing life in that moment, that I am happiest. Maybe sometimes I am guilty of getting too wrapped up in being present and forget to make long term plans, but I feel like I am truly living life when I am in this mindset. No one can predict what tomorrow can bring. If I spend all of my energy sorting out the future, won't I regret not experiencing what is right in front of me? I find myself more content in activities that I used to think of as chores. I can find joy in matching socks (I pretend it is a game of pick up sticks and try to match a pair without touching any others) or slicing vegetables for supper or sucking up dog hairballs with the vacuum. Of course no one who is human can always be in the present, but the more work towards it, the better I feel. I'll keep striving for the right balance, but if you see lightening, don't be expecting me to be doing much other than looking out on the storm.
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