The storm last night, which on the Mega Doppler looked like hell hovering over Houston, TX, refreshed me. Oh boy, did I need some refreshment. David and I were caught during the worst part of it up at the Spacetaker office. We were doing some work. Around 9 set out to meet our friends for drinks at Poison Girl, but the rain, thunder and lightning were pounding the area, so we had to stay where we were. Nearing 10 p.m., I started imagining the kids home, awakened by the ferocious thunder and lightning, worried and scared because mommy and daddy weren't home. Their beloved Marcia was with them; nevertheless, in my mind I pictured them staring out the windows at the maelstrom feeling completely crushed by fear of the storm.
David said, "Stop worrying. Clara loves storms."
I said, "Marcia is not answering her phone, so there must be trouble. We need to go home."
When we got home, Marcia was sitting on the couch, and the kids were fast asleep.
"They went to bed around 8," Marcia said. Like they always do. "They've been asleep since then."
I looked at David and said, "You were 100% right." It's so rare that I say this, and I wanted him to revel in the glow of his rightness.
After Marcia left, I realized that I was the one who was scared and frightened by the storm because my parents weren't home. Unlike Clara and Diego, I did not dwell in an area frequented by fierce storms every few weeks/months. Storms rarely happened in my hometown -- once a year at the most -- so when they did, I was consumed by the strangeness, the interrupting power of the storm. I used to fear that we might not come out on the other side of the chaos -- that we would all just be swallowed by the sky's maw.
It's hard, even though I try all the time, to remember that Clara and Diego are totally different people, with different orientations to the world.