Summer storms

Through the window comes the smell of disturbed earth. Like blown dust in a long forgotten garage, miniature specs of scent floating in through the screen, carried along by the raindrops as they crash into the sidewalk.

Each car that drives by sounds like paper ripping. The rain is like a prolonged applause.

Thunder shakes the house. I jolt awake, but settle back to sleep knowing that there’s nothing better than opening up the windows, wide, to their fullest opening ability, and dozing off to the sounds of a thunderstorm.

Midnight dark, damp, cool and breezy. The occasional ruff from Becket. The sheets pulled up tight to stay warm.

Nothing says summer more than that.