S t o r m s

When I was a kid, I used to have a ‘lightning-wand’. It was the broken half of a wooden stick formerly used at either end of a calendar to keep it from flapping in the breeze.

Every time there would be a storm, I’d run out onto the terrace with my father, and wave in glee at the clouds, wand in hand- and my, did I dance when the skies crackled with my magic.  I still remember jumping in madness, as the houses lit up in front of me as clear as day… only for a second. And for those few moments, I felt I was a wizard, a sorcerer of boundless power, beyond comprehension of mere mortal parents.

So many years ago, I was all that I needed to be.

Now that I look back at the puny shadow at the door of the terrace, shouting in excitement, drunk with power- while all lay radiant in front of him; I close my eyes, and I can hear the great booming in the distance. I open my eyes and stare at the scribbled page. Gone are those days. Gone is my wand.

However, the storms have stayed-  and with them, the thunder and lightning have too.

Back then I thought I needed a wand to crack the skies in pieces. I thought I needed a staff to wield my wizardry. But who could have thought- that I’d myself turn out to be..

..The lightning-rod?


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