Some people love thunderstorms.
They love the rumble of thunder, and the rain pelting against the windows. They enjoy the flashes of lightning streaking across the sky. They find a certain peace in a good old-fashioned rainstorm.
I am not one of those people.
I have pretty much been on high alert all afternoon.
Watching the weather alerts and updates? Check.
Periodically looking out the window to see what's happening? Check.
Informing my husband what's going on minute by minute, much like he regales me with shot by shot of his golf round? Check.
And I have no rhyme or reason as to why I'm so freakish when it comes to thunderstorms. I've never been in a tragic storm, never have had first-hand experience with a tornado, or have never endured flooding.
Yet whenever a storm brews, I'm practically transported to being a little girl over 40 years ago. That same girl would get a pit in her stomach, stay glued to the TV to watch the weather, or go outside to see what was going on. (You would think I would be hiding out in the basement, right?)
There is no logical reason for the way I feel, and yet it's something that has stayed with me all through my life. I choose not to analyze but rather accept that this is one of my idiosyncrasies. It's just the way I am.
We all have our "thunderstorms," and that's okay.
I'm a lover of life, an eternal optimist, and I have an intense desire to add value through simple living and positive vibes.