Whenever inclement weather poses a threat, there’s this thrill of excitement that lodges in my chest. It swells and remains pulsating like my heart. Being within, almost cocooned beneath some form of shelter as hell reigns around me — it sets exhilaration loose inside me.

This morning, heavy rains, forks of bright lightning, and crashing too-close thunder inundated my surroundings and woke me up earlier than intended. I remained beneath my covers, listening to the clangorous pattering of the rain against my metal awning. In my light-free room, I could catch the infinitesimal flashes through my curtain, followed quickly by the crackles and crashes of the thunder: the sound unique in its own right, one that mimics a 4th-of-July bomb recently detonated, the ones that fizzle and sizzle after the initial boom.

I felt at peace almost, listening to the repetitive drum of the downpour. Out of nowhere, an ostentatious, almost blinding, flash pierced through the blinds. I jumped at the unexpected. It’s a game played when I was little: sitting alone at night, or early in the morning, feeling almost sedated at the rain, allowing the fresh smells creep through the open window, until the lightning and following earthquake-like thunder would intrude upon my tranquility.

It’s the same when the clock reads 5 o’clock in the afternoon or later depending on the situation. The sun might be still hovering; or the faint evening mugginess suffocates where I sit or stand, watching the sky devoid of sun but swelling with ever-growing clouds of brightest white and gray. A large swelling mushroom-cloud that almost reminds me of a loaf of freshly risen bread, the yeast puckering and growing, higher, and then higher. It reaches to what it thinks is the highest part of the sky, yearning to drag it down with invisible fingers, tearing the world with gigantic, stinging raindrops, and maybe hail. The perpetual billowing up, making its way through the unstable atmosphere, where it is most welcome, where the humidity embraces it like a brother. It’s welcome, most definitely welcome here. It’s welcome enough to spit back out these jagged branches of electricity wherever it wishes. Soon the sky swirls and roars with gutless intensity.

I still stand there staring as this whole thing grows and falls and reproduces. It’s amazing. Almost like I’m in my bed, but I’m not blind. I can see, almost perfectly. I can see effortlessly. I don’t have to work at it at all.