It was hot. The kind of day where the humid air stands still and heavy around you, laying on your body as you try to rest in your bed. We pushed the covers to the floor and turned on the fan. It laboriously moved hot air over us and failed to provide its intended relief.
We had gone to bed late, in an attempt to wait for the house to cool down before we tried to sleep. Windows in the kitchen and bathroom were opened – we hoped for a cross breeze but there was none.
I fell into a deep sleep.
The scream flooded my vocal chords before I even knew I was awake, before I flew upright and onto my feet. “It’s ok, hang on” Rob said, and I could see his silhouette in the lightning flashes as he moved from our bedroom past our daughters closed door.
The sound which awoke us was breaking glass – but more than just breaking glass. It was the sound of force and impact and thrust. I pictured an intruder coming through the slim frosted window beside our front door. Thunder boomed and I wondered about the tree in the front yard, just beyond our living room window.
I followed Rob down the hall where he was standing in the kitchen. I flicked the light switch. No power.
Lightning again, I could see down the hall and the living room window was intact. More thunder, more lightning as we both tried to figure out where the noise came from. My eyes were adjusting and I could see a dark mass in the middle of the kitchen floor.
“Don’t move,” I told Rob. It was the painting from on top of our China hutch. It leaned against the wall there since the day we moved in about 3 years ago. Except it wasn’t there any more. Now it lay in the middle of our floor, broken.
The thunder and lightning was raging now. Flash after flash, almost on top of one another. All of a sudden there were beeping sounds as the microwave, phones and clocks regained power. The over head lights came on too.
That cross breeze we were wishing for earlier had finally appeared. It must have torn through our kitchen on it’s way out the bathroom window. Not only had the wind tossed our painting down from the china hutch but it had also taken three tea pots from my collection down as well. There are scars on the hutch, one my grandmother owned since the 40’s and scars on the hardwood floor.
Little H slept through the whole thing waking only when I went in to check on her. She went back to sleep easily despite the residual thunder. It took at least an hour for me to calm down after we’d swept up the mess. I fell back to sleep around 3am.
This post is part of my participation in MomDot’s PR Blackout week. I’ll be posting about all things “In The Dark.” I hope you’ll also turn inward. To think about your voice. To think about your goals and to pull it all together for a week of unique content. If you do, please share your posts in the linky widget located here.
Image credit to flickr user Kyle May under cc usage