Kinetic energy
I love storms. It's tornado season where I live, and that is usually heralded by "green boomers" - thunderstorms where the sky turn a wickedly nasty shade of green. The rain pours down in fierce sheets of liquid, hard enough to sting your skin. Thunder rolls and claps so loudly it sets off car alarms, and the sky is a churning, roiling mass of dark clouds from horizon to horizon. This year, we've only had one good storm, and I'm feeling the lack. There's an powerful sense of kinetic energy when a storm is raging outside, and during the summer the rain is warm enough that I can go play in it. It feels like renewal, like the dice of opportunity are rolling and anything can happen, like the possibilities for anything are endless and within reach. If thunderstorms were a drug, I'd be a junkie. Like a junkie, I'm going through withdrawl from the lack of storms this season.
A friend back in New England is in the middle of a Nor'easter right now, and I'm so jealous I can taste it. I'm looking outside, off the 41st floor of an office building, and I can see the humidity-impregnated air hovering over the ground below. I cringe at the knowledge of what it will be like when I walk out the door on the ground floor - going from air conditioned splendor to a solid wall of heat and humidity unstirred by anything except passing traffic.
I want to be in New England right now, sitting on the rocks at Revere Beach and watching the storm rage over the ocean, churning waves crashing to white froth on the rocks. I want to feel like the earth, the sky, the very air around me is alive with energy. I want to run across the rocks and shout and laugh and dance, knowing my words will be drowned by thunder while I get soaked to the skin.
Instead, I'm here, where it's hot and humid and you must strain for every breath you take. When I walk out to the street below, I'll mentally be in New England, playing in the rain. I'll probably smile, or maybe laugh to myself, and nobody will look or care because the sidewalk in the city has its own brand of anonymity. I will feel the sidewalk shake with thunder that's 1500 miles away. I will remember the feeling of the storm, the energy flowing through my skin.
I will feel alive.
-Peregrine
A friend back in New England is in the middle of a Nor'easter right now, and I'm so jealous I can taste it. I'm looking outside, off the 41st floor of an office building, and I can see the humidity-impregnated air hovering over the ground below. I cringe at the knowledge of what it will be like when I walk out the door on the ground floor - going from air conditioned splendor to a solid wall of heat and humidity unstirred by anything except passing traffic.
I want to be in New England right now, sitting on the rocks at Revere Beach and watching the storm rage over the ocean, churning waves crashing to white froth on the rocks. I want to feel like the earth, the sky, the very air around me is alive with energy. I want to run across the rocks and shout and laugh and dance, knowing my words will be drowned by thunder while I get soaked to the skin.
Instead, I'm here, where it's hot and humid and you must strain for every breath you take. When I walk out to the street below, I'll mentally be in New England, playing in the rain. I'll probably smile, or maybe laugh to myself, and nobody will look or care because the sidewalk in the city has its own brand of anonymity. I will feel the sidewalk shake with thunder that's 1500 miles away. I will remember the feeling of the storm, the energy flowing through my skin.
I will feel alive.
-Peregrine
posted by Peregrine at 12:04 PM
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