Tonight is my last night off for the next 8 days. Which, ultimately, is completely worth it for the schedule I’m securing.
But anyway. In light of this, I decided that, once The Better Half took Beasty to bed, I would take a bit of “me time”, a little Working MomCation, if you will. Which, in my case, involves several glasses of wine, a bath with a couple candles, and Norah Jones Pandora.
Tonight, there also happens to be a lighting/ thunder storm passing through the area. (Critical background detail: I adore thunder storms. I drove 5 hours to Fort Bragg several times a year almost exclusively for the off-chance of catching a good storm. We moved to Eastern Washington during prime storm season, and I swore I knew no other home…I might be exaggerating a touch, but you get my drift…)
So I finish my incredibly relaxing bath and go upstairs in my comfy robe, find myself on my gym/playroom balcony, watching this storm unfold. Clare de Lune comes on, the lighting cracks, and, one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, the thunder echoes. I sigh, the knots in my shoulders and neck loosening. The piano plays on, familiar as mother’s perfume, and the rain intensifies. I wonder what could possibly make this better, and Moonlit Sonata takes Debussy’s place in answer. The sky lights up and the responding thunder cracks again, and I forget everything but these sounds and the contrast of warm indoor air and soft, cool, outdoor breeze. A wild grin smears itself triumphantly across my lips, reclaiming a place in my heart I forgot existed. For a moment, the ripe tension of the storm erases all other tensions pulling at my seams. Everything hangs in beautiful balance, frozen for just a few quenching moments.
The storm peters out, nothing but a soft drizzle to play in the background of my drift to sleep. An occasional distant lightning strike illuminates a far corner of the sky, and I know with delicious certainty of minor-key bittersweetness that this is as close to spiritual as experiences get for me.
I pause, considering, and admire the simplicity of what puts me at peace.
I can come back to this moment as often as I want.