Below the Storm

Some of his favorite memories came when the rest of the world was muffled. Or shortly there after.

Growing up near the ocean, he loved prancing in the sun. Feeling it beat down against his skin. Turning it a rich brown. Toughening it like leather. He laughed to himself when his arm hair began to turn blonde - betraying the roots that were on the top of his head. But the moments he cherished most were when the sky had taken too much abuse from the sun and the storms came. Rolling in from out over the ocean. It was never a surprise. He could see them forming a few days in advance. The horizon darkening and brooding. The occasional flash of lightning would illuminate the grey wall hovering over the water. By then there was no avoiding it. Soon enough the cold breezes would begin making their way to shore, carrying the massive storms with them. The kind of breeze that shocked his system, regardless of how warm it had been. Temperatures below what he had felt in some time. Even though it brought goosebumps to the surface, it also manifested a smile on his face.

It was only a matter of time.

And when the sky finally tore open, it held nothing back. Sheets of rain fell over his house, blanketing everything. Within minutes the water was already pooling in the yard. The ground too dry from the previous days to absorb it fast enough. As he looked out his window, he imagined the yard drowning, unable to displace the water in time. But he didn't linger on the thought for too long - instead listening to the downpour against the roof. It was hard to pick out the different drops - everything seemed mashed together, pounding away. Like static on a TV station. Nothing but constant, scrambled noise, but oddly calming.

After a few moments of just listening to the sky pour itself onto his house, he made his way to the door, peering out. Taking a few breaths and steadying himself, he threw it open and ran out into the downpour. Almost instantly he was shivering. The large clouds had pushed out any remaining warm air and the rain was cold against his skin, like tiny pins that were falling on him. He made his way over the concrete patio as fast and he could - the grey material beneath his feet feeling as cold as ice. When he was within reach, he dove into the pool, breaking through the cool top layer where the rain water had collected, making it down to the bottom, where it was still warm. And he just sat there. Eyes closed, floating a few inches from the base of the pool.

 Listening. Content.

Unlike in his house, if he concentrated, he could hear the different raindrops. Surely not every individual one, but he could pick out a select few. Their unique splashes on the surface - the clean rain water pitter-pattering against its chlorinated brethren.  Suspended there, he felt like he was engulfed by the sound - echoing off the walls all around him, bouncing off his body and into his ears. It was like he was engulfed in an auditory pillow. Coming to the surface was another experience in and of itself. He exposed just his head, letting the rest of his body remain below the surface. The unique contrast of warm pool water embracing his body while the cold rain pelted his shoulders. He could feel the droplets - their pressure, trying to dive deep enough to reach his shoulders - never obtaining their goal.

He'd float there, going in between time below and above the surface until the first crack of lightning illuminated the sky. He didn't wait to count the time before the boom of thunder. It didn't matter how long it took - he didn't want to risk it. Climbing out the pool he made his way across the yard - no longer in a rush, his body now used to the chill of the rain. Stepping inside of the outdoor shower, his skin tingled, anticipating the hot water that was about to pour over it.

It no longer mattered that the lightning and thunder were creeping up on him. Lost amongst the billowing steam, he felt untouchable.

Invincible.

As the world continued to pour down on him, he couldn't help but smile.






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