It’s Monday morning and I can see and hear the rain outside the window. As an adult I love the rain. But as a child I was always afraid of the rain because it usually brought thunder storms with it. I would run to my mom’s bed and hide under the covers shaking with fear at the first bang. Usually it was crowded under there, because my brothers and sisters would beat me to mom’s bed.
One particular night the thunderstorms were so bad that the lights went out. My parents quickly gathered us kids together to the living room. They lit a few candles and used a couple of flashlights, but I remember being so scared that I started crying. You see, we lived in a very small house in Los Angeles that had a basement. A spooky, dusty, smelly basement. Of course my older brother decided that would be a perfect time to tell a tale about the basement and the creature that lived there. Dad quickly made him stop.
Mom then brought out few apples and oranges. She sat down on the floor with a knife and a towel and started peeling the apples. As she worked she told us stories of her childhood. She had plenty to share about her seven siblings! Soon, we were all laughing while eating our apple and orange slices.
It thundered and rained the entire night. So we spent that night sleeping on the living room floor huddled together with lots of pillows and blankets.
Just one of those things I will never forget.
