Rolling Thunder

We had a doosey of a storm yesterday evening. I counted twelve thunderclaps. That is a record for around here. Normally we get less than about six. And this was rolling thunder. I haven't heard that in ages, maybe never. I hate to admit this, I was a bit frightened. I was making all kinds of stuff up in my head. I saw a lightning bolt slash through my trailer, punching a big hole in the roof and another in the floor. I thought about lightning rods and about when I used to live in Oklahoma, where lightning was common. There would be tornado warnings and we would have to crawl under the house, spend the night in the crawl space. My mother was very frightened by tornadoes. After a few years of that hiding, I refused to go into the bombshelter she insisted on having built, to take refuge.
I spent the time of the thunderstorm on my couch. It rained hard, but not much. The drops were fat and heavy. I think there was some hail. I listened to the rain and the thunder, made stuff up in my head and smelled the fresh, storm-charged air. It was cozy. The light was fantastic, as the evening light can be. With all that banging going on outside, inside of myself, I was at peace.
The writers' block threat level has been lowered to normal. I am working on a delicious little story. Whacky as ever, yours truly, grateful for your checking in; Roberto