Thunderstorms

Thunder is rumbling in the distance iand the sky's light blues has shifted to dark, angry clouds. I just felt a raindrop. When we were kids, every time it would storm, my dad would get a blanket and head out to our covered front porch. We kids would follow, all huddled together on the metal glider to watch the show.  Sometimes the edge of the blanket would get wet if the wind was blowing the rain in on us, which would just make us snuggle closer to Daddy. He'd always tell us that someday he was going to screen in that porch. The lightning would flash and we'd count:  one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, one-thousand-three waiting for the thunder to calculate how far away it was.  Does 5 seconds mean 5 miles or 5 seconds mean 1 mile? We could never remember.  Sometimes the tornado watch/severe thunderstorm alarms would go off in town and we could hear the from 2 miles away.  Mother would stand in the doorway, well inside, and say, "You guys, do you think it is safe on that metal swing?" and Daddy wouldn't answer and I remember feeling like we were wild and adventurous because we could sit out in it despite the imminent danger.  40 years later, I still feel drawn to the front porch during thunderstorms.  So here I sit, counting after the lightning flashes, hearing the raindrops patter, watching the hailstones bounce, listening to the rolling thunder, and breathing in the sweet fragrance called "storm".