Storm

The one thing I find supremely disappointing about living in Denver is the lack of storms.  They are so infrequent here that I sometimes forget what they feel like, which is not something I ever had to deal with in the south.  Sometimes it would storm for days or even weeks at a stretch, constant rain and thunder.  I remember having no less than eight tornado warnings in one 24 hour time frame when we were living in the Bridgewater house.


"Why do they even bother putting an end time on it anymore?" I asked after the third one.  "Why don't they just say, 'You should probably just stay in the bath tub* until you see sunlight again,' because that's more realistic."


Tonight, though, we had one of the rare Denver storms move in about dinner time.  Not a lot in the way of rain, sadly, but it was still pretty impressive.  There were giant strobe-like lightning storms off to the south and the east, gorgeous purple and blue flashes in the clouds with the occasional impressive bolt.  I stood out on the patio and watched it, shivering in the freezing drizzle, until I just couldn't stand it anymore and went back inside.


When I grow up I want a house that allows for storm watching in all directions without standing in the rain.  Maybe a covered balcony in the back and a front porch.  Or just a lot of windows.  I will curl up and watch the storms from under my blanket with a mug of hot tea.  


You can come sit beside me and share my blanket.  I'll say, "OHMIGAWSH, did you see that one, over there behind the tree?  That was the biggest one yet!" and "Oh man, I love storms so much!"  I might do a little happy dance.  You can laugh at me and tell me that you're pretty sure I'm actually a puppy because everything is just so great all the time! with me.

Then, when the storm is over, you can come tell me funny stories while I do the dishes.  Ok?  Ok.  It's a date.


* - Memphis doesn't really do basements, y'all.