Lying in bed, I listen to the roll of thunder. The storm seems to be moving away from my neighborhood but I see the occasional flash of lightening. I close my eyes and think about the 150 folks who have RSVP’ed for the Suite 100 art reception today. I wonder if they will find the rain too daunting to venture into Westport. A sigh escapes me.
A few minutes pass in which I find myself letting a prayer whisper through my mind. During this brief respite, I breathe, in, out, the first moves of the yoga which keeps complete contracture in check. The thunder rumbles in waves.
My mind wanders; perhaps I sleep. The little chime on my phone alarm startles me. With one finger, I silence its song. Then another sound drifts through my window: the morning birds, twittering, chattering, talking to each other across the yard.
When I open my eyes, I swear the sun is shining.