Last night at precisely 4:35 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of a very loud crash. I am pretty sure my dorm, or something very close to my dorm, was struck by lightning.
The thunderstorm lasted until around 6:30 a.m. and became a theme in my dreams as I drifted in and out of sleep.
How fortuitous, I thought, for a thunderstorm to strike on the 5th of April, the day my friend Lisa France was born.
Lisa is the first person I can recall hearing a thunderstorm with. My sister and I were staying the night at her house and we had a séance to create a thunderstorm (something slightly less common in the great North West than in the South).
The tools we used were obviously perfect for the task: some colorful beads and most importantly a “thunder rock,” that was really just a regular rock we harvested from the neighbor’s backyard under the fence.
As the night went on we fell asleep, only to be awaken, as I was this morning, to a loud crash emitted from the sky. We were ecstatic. Our thunder rock had worked.
(My sister Lauren for her part slept through the night and even let out snores rivaling the ones in the sky.)
Today is Lisa’s birthday and I dedicate this post to her. She is my second sister and I love her very much.
Tomorrow is my other sister’s birthday so except some tantalizing tale designed to embarrass her as all new 17-year-olds need to be embarrassed.