storms & colours

"It's like somebody's taking pictures with a really big flash"

She has this extraordinary ability to describe even the simplest of things with an elaborate flair. A mixture of her creative character and a natural child-like propensity in seeing beyond the ordinary. Seeing past the routine, run-of-the-mill colours of real life. She sees the world through bright green crystals that throw prisms of colours across her world.

We're standing on the front porch looking up as yet another summer storm hastens across the night sky. The low frequency sound of thunder grumbles and rumbles, interrupted by sheet lightning that throws blue sheets behind dark ominous clouds. The air is electric sharp and heavy with moisture. The leaves of the large oak tree start to ripple and shake violently as the wind picks up and runs it hands through the boughs. It sounds like a giant rain stick. The first large rain drops begin to fall, splashing onto the warm cement floor, shattering apart on the driveway.

I love watching the rain fall. I love summer storms. I never cease to be amazed at the contradiction of danger and violence that can wreck havoc and destruction, yet provide the basis sustenance to support life. A paradigm of life and death bundled together in swirl of clouds, wind and rain. She slips her hand into mind and we stand there, the spray of the rain sprinkling our bare feet and face like a cooling mist.

There is no one else I'd rather watch storms with. She is the essence of my life. A mad concert of colour, light and sound that swirls around me like a never ending summer storm. Don't ever change My Precious. I enjoy every drop of you.