The other night, it rained. Poured. Thunder and lightning. The works.
Our Golden Retriever, Bailey, didn’t know what to do. Timid anyway from some sort of abuse. Our ‘Rescue Dog’. Antsy all night. Ran upstairs. Ran downstairs. Hunkered down at Kim’s feet. Finally settled on lying down on the landing. Still in the family room, but hidden . . . sort of, not quite. Not really out of the room. At least all together. We could still see her and she, us.
The TV acted up. Satellite TV does that in severe storms. We get a “Searching For Signal” notification. Doesn’t usually last long. Not even a minute or so. But annoying nonetheless.
Kim played a game on her IPad. Emily read her Kindle. Hannah was out with friends. I wrote.
Eventually we went to bed and at some point, the storm ended. No loss of power. No having to reset the clocks. No one was late for work.
After The Storm.
I like mornings anyway. The quiet. The solitude. The peace. My thinking time.
After The Storm, there is a clarity that isn’t necessarily present on many mornings. There is a freshness in the air. I like the beads of water on the grass and trees. The droplets of water seem to make everything fresher. Greener. Clearer.
After The Storm.
Not during the storm, but After The Storm.
During the storm, there is always a question as to whether or not we’ll lose power. Many do. During the storm, there is an unsettled feeling . . . anxious . . . like Bailey. It isn’t peaceful or clear or fresh like it is After The Storm.
Everything is just, well . . . wet. And dark. And dreary.
During the storm, we wonder. We worry. Or, if not worry, we wonder. We might be anxious. At least, a bit unsettled. We sometimes have to “Search For A Signal”. Some signal. Any signal. Maybe like our Golden, we want to hide.
After The Storm, there is peace. Quiet. And as I wrote in an earlier post, there is always an end. It seems to last a while. It can seem to last a long time. Forever, perhaps.
But it doesn’t. The storm ends.
After The Storm, there is no more thunder. There is no more lightning. No more violent wind. Things that were once blown around are put back in place. Rearranged. Settled.
Storms don’t last that long really. They just seem to. Especially if we find ourselves in the midst of a storm. Especially then.
But they end. They always do. There is always an After The Storm. Really. Whether or not we have to “Search For A Signal”. Something to think about . . .
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