Thunderwalking.

the storm rolls in, like a boulder, like a freight train, and then there is the briefest of silences, when the air is still and warm and heavy then a drop. then another. then rain, which is different from a storm, we think, because rain is just water falling from the sky, all friendly-like but then the drops somehow get bigger, each of them a separate splash of liquid fireworks on the rapidly darkening sidewalk the wind picks up – suddenly howls then lightning + two (1000) three (1000) four (1000) fi- thunder. that’s when we put on our Hunter boots, because you never know how long it’s going to last (on our phones it’s just a little orange patch in the middle of a big blue patch on the weather app radar) we never take an umbrella because the point is to walk in the storm, be a part of it; to shiver when it all first hits us, then dash back and forth down the block and back (in any given season there are 40 million annual lightning strikes in the USA. that’s 40 million thunderclaps, but because of where we live, we only hear maybe 40 of those a year so we get out, at least once every summer, for the surround sound full spectrum immersive high fidelity live sonic experience. maybe eight minutes. or longer if it’s during the day, we clean leaves from drains and wave to those huddled in doorways / under awnings… if it’s after dark, there is dancing and stomping and wild waving of arms who is that family out dancing in the rain? Oh, they’re the ones from the fourth floor, who still dress up for Halloween there’s magic in a thunderstorm and when we’re out in it, part of that magic is us Get full access to :lowerblackpain at lowerblackpain.substack.com/subscribe