This is related to my storm thread I posted last night:
One of my most precious memories is of my dad. When I was a little girl (still in my baby bed), one night a big nasty storm blew through where I lived. The lightning was constant, just like last night's storm was. I woke up and watched with exhileration as the lightning flashed through my room (that I shared with my brother), and listened to the thunder. I sat up and turned around, and there was my dad, standing in the doorway right behind my bed, watching the storm with me. I can't remember what we whispered to each other as we watched the storm wear itself out, but I always remember how special that was for me, to be sitting in the dark, with my dad, watching the lightning.
My dad is still alive, and we still share the same love for storms as we did, then. My parents got divorced, and he ended up moving out to the country, and every time a big storm was rolling through, we'd go outside and watch. It was great to watch it approach over the open fields as we drank iced tea and at chunks of coconut or some other snack. It was better than TV! I laugh now, remembering how we'd stand out there in the yard and watch the approaching wall of torrential rain, until finally my dad would yell out to run, and we'd turn and sprint back to the shelter of the large overhangs on his house. We'd always just make it to safety before getting doused.
Those are my precious memories.
