I love thunderstorms. When a storm approaches I usually grin from ear to ear. I love to press my face to a window and feel the sense of being one with the strength of the storm. The noise delights me and I would love to be out in it twirling with arms wide open. So far, common sense has prevailed and instead, I find a cozy spot to listen to the thunder rumbling until it gently fades away.

My family teases me about loving storms and reminds me of the damage they can cause. I certainly understand that, but it makes no difference... the power, the complexity, the dynamics fascinate me. I should have studied meteorology, they say, but it isn't the science, its the force of nature inherent in a good storm that fills me with wonder.

So many people do not share my love of storms, so I keep it to myself. I take care to look concerned when a storm approaches, and I do take preventive measures to keep hearth and home safe. I mean, its just common sense to secure things that can go flying. Storm damage is a very serious issue..... but separating out the storm and appreciating it for the force that it is gives me satisfaction.

The only time I don't appreciate thunder is when its snowing. I want snowfall to be appreciated as a winter event and not have thunder as one of the components. Seriously, snow should be cold and not be competing with warm air for any reason. It messes up the scenario and reminds me that the snow is a fleeting situation and will melt far too soon.

In 1983, while an employee for a construction company, the air pressure started to change in the trailer where I was working. I grew up in Arkansas, so really good storms were common along with tornados. We were an extension of Oklahoma's Tornado Alley.
On that afternoon, the sky had become very dark and ominous with that sickly greenish yellow tint that shouts of bad things to come. The rain hadn't started and the air felt like it was silently crackling all around. It was the first time I had felt nervous about an approaching storm. The men left their machines, in fact, they jumped off quickly and headed to their trucks. I looked up in the sky but couldn't see anything to worry about. My shaking grew stronger and I wondered at myself. Surely, I wasn't getting sick or something. I quickly locked filing cabinets and the office trailer door and went to my truck. The construction manager had been coming to tell me to leave, but just nodded as I backed away.
The air grew heavy and weighted, I continued to look to the sky for the answers, expecting heavy rainfall. As I got closer to town, the volunteer fire department was at every main intersection. They were talking on walkie talkies and braced in a military type stance. I saw a column of white smoke not too far away and was disgusted that they weren't going to fight that fire. I mean they were the fire department, such as we had.
I glanced back and the column had gone black. Instantaneously, I realized it was a tornado and the reason I hadn't seen it moving was because it was headed straight for me. I had stopped at a red light and with a strong whoosh I was enveloped in the heaviest rainfall I have ever known. Dimly, the light turned green and I inched, literally inched, through the intersection. A few streets away the rain let up and I went to check on my folks. The tornado had come from their direction. With a grateful heart we heard no one was injured, although several mobile homes had been destroyed.... all within a few yards of my office trailer.

You may find me odd for my story, and think I've gone bonkers for enjoying storms. May I remind you that there are people who jump off bridges with only an elastic band to count on, there are others who walk on tight ropes with a slim balancing bar, and there are those who jump out of perfectly good airplanes and rely on a silk sheet. Everyone has their own version of 'crazy', and an approaching storm is mine.