The sky just went from bright, crisp, dusky blue, to cement grey, the photocell on the lamppost on the front lawn just snapped the spiral, florescent bulb inside it on--- the flickering power grid dimmed the interior lights for a only a few bothersome seconds. Would all the electronic devices get shut off? They remained on without failing.
An audible wind kicked up, blowing fallen leaves down the long, black street, as the Crepe Myrtle tree outside my office window bent and swirled in three foot arcs. I heard the thunder threatening like a bully... making the threat but keeping its distance--- bellowing and rumbling in disarmingly low tones.
The branches of the myrtle shriek and claw against the panes of doubled glass in the window frame, and the glass makes a percussive, cracking sound, as if it would suddenly be sucked out into the darkening night by the demanding air.
The wind continues brazenly, intimidatingly, yet, not a drop of rain has fallen. It looks, and feels, like thick, heavy Twister weather. I opened the door to the back garden and stepped outside. An atmospheric blanket enveloped my entire body, including my head, feeling as though it had just emerged from a hot dryer, not yet fully dry. After only moments, I returned to my desk and the enormous, lighted ceiling fan whirling above it.
And now? Eerie silence. Not anything moves on the street outside my floor-to- ceiling window. None of my neighbors are taking their nightly walks or jogs past my porthole. No children kick-push their neon scooters, or ride their tiny bikes --- screaming at each other like people miles apart. It feels as if i am the last person alive in the town! My only contrary indication? The sound of CNN spilling out from my cheetah-skinned iPhone.
All I can see outside the window now is an unsettling, midnight blackness, as if my house, and this property, were sucked down into a sinkhole en route to hell itself. Save for the light above my head, there is no other. Except for the man-sized, posted lantern in the center of my lawn. The usual lights glowing from the neighbor's house across the road do not shine. The sky above it is now obsidian, without a star in it. At 8:15 P.M.
My grandmother is okay though. She lulls herself into a comfort as she plays computer solitaire and plots her day for tomorrow, never contemplating a larger feeling of solitude and foreboding--- perhaps unaware, or unimpressed, by nature's black magic just outside our door. I'd imagine she is planning her menu for tomorrow. The moment I awaken, she will declare her choice for me to prepare.
And here I sit, having felt my chest tighten in anticipation of a massive event which would frighten and titillate in one attempt. I prayed the rain would come and cleanse my street, my neighborhood, and my soul with it's deluge. The asphalt remains unwet and unmolested by nature's broken promise. And so, i sit. Dolefully disappointed by the silence--- feeling let down like at the longing for the, long-awaited, kiss of a new lover, of your most paralyzing crush. A monumental tsunami of anticipation and expectation... only to get far less--- a kiss that is such a complete let-down, which simply fails to ignite.
10:08 PM. And now, as suddenly as before, a distant, disinterested, lackluster thunderclap and a pathetic lightning strike. All the anticipation. The hype. All the excitement at how amazing it will be because, by the signs, there's no way it could disappoint! My God! I was SO looking forward to this!! Everything seemed like a wish come-true! Well... no. Once again reminded of that inadequate, anemic kiss and it's passionless, while impressive, giver--- i simply roll my eyes, looking out the window, and whisper, "Just stop".
There was, likewise, no storm this night,
Once again I affirm: "Expectations are planned resentments! And so, i chose to write. And now to leave this office for the night.