Storm Time

from http://www.wfsb.com/ 

I love storms.

The smell,

The fizzle crackle in the air,

And the sound of rain.

But tonight I was nervous. 

Warnings of flash floods and tornadoes across the state,

And being a grown-up in a place of children,

I felt a responsibility. 

A couple of the campers I work with

Are afraid of storms,

And I came across one of my theatre babies

In the theatre,

Huddled over

Tense and barely breathing.

I sat with her,

Offered my hand

And she clasped it tight.

And every time the thunder roared

She held her breath and shivered.

We sat together,

And chatted through the storm.

I joked about singing My Favorite Things

It seemed appropriate. 

And we giggled at the thought of becoming the cliche. 

And to help her breathe

I told her breathing deeply would be like practicing diaphragm exercises. 

If she wanted to play Elphaba, she’d better get practicing. 

It made her laugh. She breathed, and trembled a little less with every thunder clap. 

The storm passed. 

I ended up sitting in the Music Shed with a couple of campers

And my friend with a beautiful wooden flute.

Occasional patters of rain danced across the roof.

My friend played his flute.

And I felt calm. 

And I felt that this is what being a grown-up must be like.

To be put your own fears aside

And help the smaller ones around you. 

The end.