His restless sleep had been utility at best. The seven year old was curled up on the sofa with his head in his “BigPaw’s” lap. The kerosene lamp that had been the young boys great grandmother’s was sitting behind the glass fire screen, giving off a soft yellow glow that barely gleamed across the vaulted den. They had been watching the old black and white, battery powered, portable TV while the lightning and wind interacted with tenacity for most of the night. The 52 inch wide screen had been “unlatched” from its connection much earlier in the evening. A thunderous explosion had turned the room into a cave.
A seven year old can understand much more than us more wiser grownups would like to admit. The TV news had been full of “film at ten o‘clock” moments. How do you explain to a youngster who has been taught the rules of kindergarten that when you get older, it seems that it is ok to just throw those rules aside.
“Big Paw, is the rain over”? He sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked over to the window to look toward the road.
“Everything is OK, Big Boy, we are safe now”. I walked over to where he was standing and put my hand on his bushy head and jostled him back and forth. He look up and gave me a big smile. I smiled back to reassure his still fretful thoughts.
“It has finally stopped raining”. They could see the flimsy brightly colored signs along the roadside. The wind was whipping them back and forth. My misleading answer weighed heavy on my shoulders as the true thought raced through my mind. …The real storm is on the horizon..