When I was a little girl, thunder and lightning storms were a big event for me. I lived in a small town that was built on a hill, and our house was perched at the top of the hill; we had an unobstructed view of a beautiful valley and never ending landscape of evergreen trees and open fields.

During thunder and lightning storms my dad would open our garage doors and set up a couple of lawn chairs. We would sit quietly, just me and him, and watch the tremendous show of nature’s vengeance and balance, bright flashes of light… count one… two… three… four… fi- then crashes of thunder echoing throughout Fox Valley.

I knew I should have been scared but I felt safe with my protector next to me, and free to let the excitement and adrenaline course through my body. Every now and then an especially loud BOOM would sound or bright flash would light up the sky and my dad would get this sparkle in his eyes. We’d look at each other, eyebrows raised, and smile in amazement before turning back to the show.

Nearly 40 years have passed and every time it storms I still feel the love, the connection. I feel safe and free and full of wonder.

Tonight I am sitting on a swing on the porch of a house I love as dearly as the house I grew up in. And every BOOM brings him back to me.