Sitting in a Lightning Storm

It’s not quite 2 in the morning on a Tuesday in early August

And rain is pouring outside my blue curtains.

Although I’m warm in my bed,

I can see from my window that water permeates ever inch of the world tonight

And I know that while the air is warm

The water will be freezing

and that only someone mad would step outside in a lightning storm.

In my mind though, I don’t see an issue

I send you a text:

“It’s raining”

Because I love when the earth smells of petrichor

when the air feels thick and damp.

I text you

“Look outside”

because I know you love it too.

Minutes go by,

you haven’t read my message.

It’s now just past 2 am.

In my thin pajama shorts and the jean jacket I wear to start fires,

I tiptoe through my silent house.

The door slides open noiselessly to the outside,

covered by thunder regardless.

And I sit,

comfortable in the warm air, but freezing in the rain water

And I sit alone,

because I know if you were here with me,

we’d be sipping tea and watching lightning hit far away places

until our problems seemed just as far away.

Only someone mad would step outside in a lightning storm.

My darling,

for you, I will be mad