(no subject)
[written sometime last week, I think Monday, when we had some kickass thunderstorms... I just didn't have the chance to put it up on here until now]
We had some nice thunderstorms this morning while I was babysitting. They didn't start until around 8:30 or. Apparently it stormed duing the night, too (I was dead to the world the minute my head hit the pillow), and the thunder woke Colin up and kept him awake most of the night, so his parents and I pretty much assumed he'd be in bed for a while.
Celeste and Larry left little before 8. At first I sat at the kitchen table, flipping hrough a magzine.After about 15 minutes, Holly scratched at the door to be let out. She wandered around the yard, did her business, and came back inside, but rather than close the door, I decided to keep it open to enjoy the cool breeze blowing in.
The back door-- a set of double doors, or French doors, or whatever you want to call them-- opens up from the family room right onto a little deck that overlooks the backyard. I curled up on the sofa, which is positioned against the wall opposite the doors, faceing outside, and opened my book to read. Then the storms started.
For some reason, sitting there on the sofa reading, with the breeze carrying in the smell of the rain and the lightning flashing outside and the thunder rumbling, I felt like I was ten again and back in Maine, in the little cabin that we rented every year for vacation.
My brain transformed my surroundings and all of a sudden I was in the cabin, sitting on the faded plaid couch facing the huge set of windows that made up the wall overlooking the lake. The windows stretched from the floor to the high ceiling, and beyond the big tree stretching its branches over the picnic table, beyond the big wooden tiki totem in the middle of the yard, beyond the little dock with the motorboat anchored to it, you could watch the lightning streak across the lake, reaching behind the trees across the way.
Every year, without fail, there was at least one day of our vacation when it stormed relentlessly. Those days we stayed in our cozy little cabin and lpayed hours and hours of Uno, or Old Maid (even though the deck of Old Maid cards was missing a couple cards), or Go Fish, or we'd bake cookies in the old stove or make a tent fort up in the loft. My sisters and brother always would whine that they were bored. They wanted the sun, the beach, out of the cabin. My parents would grow annoyed and they, too, would wish for sunny skies. But even when I was little, I loved thunderstorms. If I was ever afraid of the crashing thunder, I can't remember. I was ridiculously introspective and something of a loner from birth-- growing up in a family with six, it's easy to just kind of fall between the cracks. After a while, I'd leave my brother and sisters to their card games or their make believe and wander off to do my own thing. I used to sit on that worn but comfortable sofa and read, and have claps of thunder and the cadence of rain as my background symphony.
I've said it before, so many times-- I love Maine. I haven't been there in years, but I have so many good memories from my summer vacations there. If I have any memories of being happy with my family, they were memories from Maine. Sure, in recent years we've gone to Long Beach Islan, in New Jersey, but I was miserable the whole time. Especially the year they tried to "shake things up," make the vacation "educational," and booked a cabin on some camping ground in Gettysburg. Booorrriiiinnnggg. But for some reason... I loved Maine. I miss Maine. I don't even care how dumb I sound, or cheesey, or emo. It's true.
I felt a little weird when Bre went to Maine to visit Todd. Jealous, even. Not because she was visiting Todd, but because she was going to Maine... I don't know why... but... whatever.
At any rate. After three or four thoroughly enjoyable storms, the rainclouds dissipated enough for the sun to come out again. Colin woke up, and my nostalgic reverie was broken.
But...
...I still miss Maine.