When It Rains
Many fond memories come to mind when I think of my summer home. One particular occasion that comes to mind was late in June of '95. The first summer storm I had seen since I arrived back home came roaring in. I had been going through some rough times and I was glad to be at home, safe and free. This summer storm seemed to sum up what I had been going through. A muted rumbling in the distance causes me to look up from my tinkering for the telltale signs of another summer storm. Ah-ah, there it is, the inky black clouds lining the horizon, lit by the occasional lightning bolt streaking through them. Again the angry mutterings of molecules slammed against one another by the bolts of electricity zipping through them, echo across the landscape. Putting away my bike and tools, I notice the stillness that almost always precedes these downpours, as if Mother Nature herself is holding her breath against the tirade to come. Birds take to their nests; insects cease their buzzing; even the family mutt has sought shelter from the impeding deluge. My bike and tools safely stored, I take a seat on the front steps to watch the lightning dance in the clouds
Then it's over, the incessant thrumming of the rain fades, the thunder and lightning move on, and all of nature ventures forth. Stepping outside into the light drizzle, I take in a deep breath of the now cool, fresh air scented with nothing but damp earth. Here and there, the birds begin to sing and dart about; insects resume their buzzing, and the dog comes out all muddy, wanting to play. Soon the sun appears, driving off the last of the clouds and rain, reclaiming its rightful place in the sky. Eventually the heat returns, the exhaust of passing cars taints the air, and all that remains of the storm is an occasional puddle or soggy patch of ground. My summer home is a place of refuge when the storm or the world becomes too violent to handle. I'll never take my home and what it means to me for granted. As soon as I walk into my summer home, memories come racing back to me from every direction. It's hard to think that most of what I know was learned there, from my parents and siblings. I remember when I could barely reach the sink and the day my head hit the ceiling fan. The area around my summer home also brings back many memories. To be outside my summ
Some common words found in the essay are:
Mother Nature, , summer home, summer storm, memories summer home, summer home memories, bike tools, memories summer, home memories, home refuge, summer home refuge,
Approximate Word count = 790
Approximate Pages = 3 (250 words per page double spaced)
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