Natural Uneasiness

via Our Amazing Planet

Perhaps it's New England nostalgia, but I love summer thunderstorms.  And you can tell when one is coming when the humidity and heat is so unbareable that something has to give. The air feels disturbingly calm like a predictable horror movie moment that should just happen already because  you are expecting it. 

And in New York City it's a rare occassion that thrills me with unusual joy when one is coming.

It's a thrill that leaves you on edge and excited. It's a thrill that leaves you awestruck and fearfully intimidated knowing that something is more powerful than you and in control.

But when they are not the rolling ones like in New England that come and go -- when they have gone on too long -- I can't do anything else but count the long minutes until it's over.  It's true about the feeling of jumping out of your skin.  The humid air is so electrically charged and that when lightening strikes you can swear you feel it in every joint and every vein.

You are afraid to move from your position, in case something bad will happen otherwise

It's a nervousness that can only end when you see that flash of lightening and the relieving sound of thunder. Like clockwork work they tell you the coming to the end of the storm. But when it keeps going it's like the slow drag of a movie that hasn't reached the high point of the plot yet. 

And you really want it to end.