The skies have grown dark, and the low rumbling of thunder begins. I snuggle down deeper in my bed with a smile on my face.
She runs from window to window, the panic running through her veins. I can hear her pace. I can tell by the sound of her footsteps that she will try to involve me in her watch.
She is at the bedroom door. She doesn’t bother to knock. It is an emergency in her racing mind. “You need to get up. There’s a storm”
I can’t contribute to her sickness anymore. I spent 20 years walking the floorboards with her. Me being by her side was to be a comfort for her, but all it did was fan the flames… gave credence to her sickness.
“Get up,“ she repeats with fear rising in her throat. “Why, Mom? Why do you want me to get up?” I answer in my calmest voice. She speaks as the expert….as the only voice of reason, “There’s a cloud! What if its bad? We need to watch it!” I remind her that we don’t watch clouds here, This is not West Texas with open vistas to watch the approaching nightly entertainment.
“Then how do we know when to go to the storm cellar?” She is angry that her logic is not working in this foreign environment. I remind her that there is no storm shelter to be found in this part of the country. I give her a hug, tell her to go back to bed. I remind her to quit worrying about something she can’t control. That is a foreign concept to her.
I return to my bed and snuggle under the covers. My smile returns as the thunder rattles the windows. I am comforted by the sounds of the storms. I relax and thank God for helping me overcome the illness she passed down. As I drift off to a peaceful sleep, I realize that there is no pacing outside my door. She is getting better.
And, of course, she must always have her way. She is “one of those” who can never share decisions or opinions. It is “her way or the highway“!
I knew better than to trust her. I have been burned before. But she sucked me back in last week. She was so tempting and I was hungry for what she had to offer. We started hanging out together again.
She has this strange ability to make me want to leave the comfort of my surroundings and my house and explore the world again. She makes me restless. My head tells me that she is dangerous and not to be trusted, but my heart tells me to give in and trust her.
Last week, I found myself sitting in the rocking chair on my porch doing nothing but dreaming. I was making lists in my head of all the things I wanted to do with her. I imagined us doing creative projects in my yard, riding bicycles together through the neighborhood, going on road trips to explore the countryside and traveling to far away places.
She plays on my emotions. She makes me miss the “old me“…you know…the me that was fun, adventurous, and full of life. She draws me out of my shell with requests to join her.
Let’s face it. She seduced me. I fell for her…again. When will I ever learn?
So now I am back in my house with my memories of her. Sad. Missing our week together. It was a wonderful week. She made me feel cool. She made me comfortable. In one short week, she reminded me that life is for living.
But it is over.
I knew she would do this to me. I FALL for it every year!
I am once again locked in my house. I am grieving in the comfort of my air-conditioned bedroom. Will I ever see her again? Will she return to save me?