Thunder

Sunday, after a long day of many feelings, mixed moving things that take forever to settle, while Dawn and Bryce slept, the only noise came from the evening news, and then, a tiny, outstanding clap took all the lights and sounds and assurances that come from electricity.  From my home and all around, with one exception two blocks away, in the home on Greenwood, everything hushed and mirrored the contours of my insides.  Rolling over the neighborhood, flashing really, was a blackness, a darkness, a peace.  It was one of those preparatory moments, like the ones the preachers rushed into us in my childhood, the stories they told to convince of us of hell and hardly love, and at the same time, the dark moment was filled with contentment; there was no fear.  With the clap that blackened all of Hyde Park, it felt like Sunday, it felt like a day when I’d come closer to what happens when God comes.

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