The Quickening
There’s time for a brisk walk up the mountain before dusk. The rain slowed a little, so I decided to keep going after feeding the animals. Nothing a hoodie and a raincoat couldn’t handle. Walking in the rain keeps me sane, helps me prioritize. Top of the ridge and I hear a jet. No, it’s rolling. That rumbling sound is building on itself.
Yes! It’s the first thunder of the season. Told you it was Spring. Looking for lightning, I do not see any, so I step outside the gate of the protective woods into the open. The rumble morphs to a crashing crescendo. Hearing the thunder again reminds me of the first time I felt my baby kick inside me. Tells you there really is something alive approaching. I heard some folks call it the Quickening.