Thunder

The storm is finally passing, but it was previously a tangle of fast rain and loud thunder. The sheets of bright lighting slid through the slits in my bedroom shades, lighting up my blackened room. All the while he sleeps, tired from water and work and worry. I sleep beside him, hungry for rest that week has made my body crave. I can only sleep so long in this weather, feeling like one of us must be awake to stand guard from the monster of a storm. The beast has finally calmed itself, moving far off enough so the flashes only serve a faint reminder of its fury and the thunder dulled to a distant purr. He breathes steadily. His hand lightly cupping the ball of my foot as I am on the couch and he is sprawled on the floor so that his long limbs can spread wide. A soft breathe in, a light huff out. The work of his lungs assures me that there can be peace, even in the middle of all this action. The world outside my windows is calming, he is calm, my uneasy heart is slowing. My fingers typing is the loudest of noises now. I stop so that I will not disrupt the ease of the world with my fast and clunky fingers. The world seems right again. I am less afraid now.