The long awaited thunderstorm arrived last night at 12:30, along with the frantic, frightened voice of my oldest son. I can't blame him, the blinding light and tumultuous thunder woke even me from my sleep. Into my bed he came with his 8 year old stuffed giraffe named Giraffey.
Our night continued with interrupted sleep. Elbow to my nose, water pounding on the patio, snoring, sniffling, boy on my pillow. It was a long night.
But I loved it. I was with my oldest son. Snuggling. He needed me. He felt comforted by me and we were quiet together. Quite the opposite of daylight hours that included another marathon math session, dislike of baseball, fighting with his brother. I loved last night.
I also loved what I saw this morning. The rain not yet done filling the lawn, the garden not swamped and the fish swimming about, trying to get into my blooming water hyacinth photograph.
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