photo from middle-fork.orgMy 3-year-old woke me up at 12:30 this morning in need of a drink.
Once she was settled back in, I could not sleep for another hour because the winds outside rattled our house and I was transported back to my childhood in Iowa and the tornadoes and warnings which often accompanied such strong winds.
The incessant barking of a dog somehow brought a sense of fear and foreboding that I could not shake as I lay there in bed, listening. I knew that the only way to dispel the feeling was to prove to myself that it was self-induced.
I rolled out of bed and walked to the window. Parting the blinds, I investigated the skies. No greenish-gray clouds, no swirling storm, no pelting hail. All was well.
I tiptoed to the rooms of my children, peeking in at their sleeping bodies for assurance that they were safe. They slept soundly, oblivious to the winds which kept me awake.
I peered out the front window, watching as trash cans toppled, leaves swirled past and trees bent with each gust of wind as it forcefully blew by. Powerful, yes. But nothing to be concerned about.
There was only one thing left to do. I climbed back into the warmth of my bed, positioned my pillows the way I like best and pulled the comforter up over my ears.
Eventually my heart stopped pounding and this muted version of the storm became my friend as it lulled me back to sleep.
