Talk About the Weather

It was around six in the evening last Sunday after a brief shower that must have caused the day's hellish weather when suddenly the sky was aglow. Heaven was on fire.


Later that night, the rain poured in torrents. Its heavy sound broken only by bolts of thunder that came with blinding flashes of lightning that sent my Indie cowering even in her half-asleep state. Only when the storm subsided did she fall back into a peaceful slumber, but still with her hands over her ears.

I remember I was just as cowed as a little girl. The oldies at home, to erase our childish fears, used to give us kids some form of explanation that sounded foolish even to our unenlightened ears. They said thunder was merely the sound made when God was bowling—yes, bowling—with his friends up there. While lightning was the doing of shutter-happy angels. Oh well, God must have played a mean game of bowling that stormy Sunday and the heavenly paparazzi simply had a field day.