It has darkened up quick and gotten growly out.
Sat for a bit on my patio stoop listening to the thunder roll up.
Watching the tree branches swaying and a flash of distant lightening.
Air cleaning up.
Light tinks of rain hitting my bedroom window now.
Reminds me of the one time we took our father out for dinner before he passed.
A storm coming as we left the restaurant and my dad looking up at the trees swaying.
Putting his hands into the air and lightly waving them in imitation of branches and leaves.
Isn’t it amazing how they talk to each other.
Then smiled at me and got in the car.
It was a flash of surreal purity that is not fully describable.
Him well into dementia and still a bastard — but magic nonetheless.
