Thunderstorms

I’ve always loved thunderstorms. There’s something steady and honest about them. The way the whole world seems to quiet down so the sky can speak.

I like watching the clouds change as a storm moves in. How they stack and stretch and darken. How the air shifts. How everything feels like it’s holding its breath for a moment.

And then the lightning. The quick flash. The sudden brightness. The reminder that nature has a pulse and it’s louder than anything I’m dealing with inside my house.

Thunderstorms make me feel calm.

Even now, when I’m not weight‑bearing and Metal Mollie is tucked inside Betty Boot like a tiny metal tenant. The storm doesn’t care about any of that.It just arrives. And I get to sit and listen.

There’s comfort in that. In the sound. In the rhythm. In the way the sky puts on a show whether I’m fully mobile or stuck on the couch.

It reminds me that I’m still me. And that some things I love haven’t changed at all.