Thunder! Lightening!

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Today's Writing Prompt: Scared

Write about something that scared you as a child.


This is ironically appropriate tonight, given that a thunderstorm has just rolled into Norman.

As a child, I was terrified of lightening and thunder. I grew up in Tucson, and my mid-August birthday was during "monsoon season." It stormed a lot during that time of year. Lightening often streaked earthward in crazy displays of light, and was almost always followed by loud cracks! of thunder. I could never decide whether I hated the thunder more, because it was loud and sudden, or the lightening more, because it always preceded the crashes of thunder.

I hid under my bed, trembling, on occasion during the storms. I could sit, absolutely paralyzed by fear, in our darkened living room for hours at a time. When the thunder came in the middle of the night, I could find no voice to call my mother, but remained scrunched up under my sheets waiting for the cacophony to pass. And I remember making my mother nuts with my anxieties (oh dear! what goes around certainly comes around!).

How interesting that I can recall my Grandma Scarbrough, my mother's mother, and all the attempts she made to lessen my fear. My small son, Caleb, lays on the couch asleep as I write. He couldn't bring himself to sleep in his own bed when the wind began to blow. My mother, Pat, and my dear friend, Lorna, also a grandmother, spent last week trying to convince Caleb of all the reasons he need not be afraid of storms. Granted, living in Tornado Alley, instead of the Sonoran Desert, gives rise to even more fear than mere thunder and lightening. I suppose a tornado is indeed a scary thing. At 8, the same age as Caleb, I was scared silly of the little dust devils we got in Arizona, small swirling cyclones of dust and dirt, and especially petrifying to me when they picked up thorny tumbleweeds. As I think about it, those dust devils were akin to tiny tornadoes. No wonder my little son is so scared!

However, I can suddenly recall with clarity that it was my own grandmother, and not my mother, who tried most to convince me of the very same things. And all to no avail! Describing thunder as the angels moving their furniture was a cute idea, but didn't soothe my fears. Neither did counting the seconds between lightening strikes and the thunder's boom. I wasn't afraid of the damage the lightening could do; I was afraid of the unpredictable and resonating boom. Maybe it would have been more helpful for me to know how many seconds to count before the boom came?

Over time, and in minute increments, I simply outgrew my fear. Or, rather, I coped with it better.

Thunder and lightening here in Norman, Oklahoma, are a little different. Usually, the thunder rolls, true to Garth Brooks. The lightening rolls, too. It seems far less likely for you to see lightening strike straight downward. Usually what I see is the lightening reflecting in rippling patches across the clouds in the sky as a front presses forward. I love that. It's gorgeous. And I love the soul-satisfying rumbling of the thunder.

But.... We still get big cracks of thunder from time to time. And if I'm in bed with my husband, I curl up as close to him as I can, and I squeeze my eyes shut, and I cover my ears.

I guess I haven't really outgrown it after all.

Fear, Anyone?

We have fears aplenty around here. I would be more than happy to give some away.

The 1 year old fears: being away from Mommy (and she only exhibits this when she's tired), dogs that approach her (but they're ok, if it's her idea), missing out on anything.

The 5 year old fears: nothing, nothing, and nothing (is that just Rex?).

The older girl fears: their deepest, darkest, innermost secrets revealed; their parents being nerds or worse, dorks.

Then there are the 7 year old fears: thunder, lightning, the dark, stangers, bad men with guns, the house being unlocked, tornados, Sunday School, his teacher, his mom, his dad, getting down from trees, rain that could potentially turn into tornados, wind, mysterious letters, being made fun of, being laughed at, tornados, moonless nights, nights with full moons, vampires, rattlesnakes, tornados. I detect a pattern here.

You name it we've seen it. And we've seen it. And we've seen it.

And then there are those terrible mother fears. You know them, moms. When your son comes to you with carpet burn on his belly because he and his brother have been dragging each other across the living room in fits of giggles, and you just know that his intestines are going to uncoil out of his belly and he'll bleed out in the middle of the kitchen floor before you can even dial 911. You laugh, but I know you know what I'm talking about. It's like when you become a mother you suddenly have the most creative imagination on the planet. It's the imagination you always wished you had when you were playing pretend with your childhood chums. They do say to be careful what you wish for.

But never fear! The rescue squad is here:

And it's even posed strikingly, like a cowboy hero or a white knight or ... or a swimsuit model or something. JSYK, I snapped this pic 3 times, and every time, she threw up her arm. Now that I think about it, she must still be doing the Itsy Bitsy Spider (while trying to maintain her precarious balance, like Godzilla atop a tank). It might be time for a new song.