Good Thunder

Sometimes they said very little, and found it surprisingly pleasant to do so. Today was one of those days. They had stopped on their way back from the sea cliffs because of a cottage in the distance being illuminated by that heart-stopping light that can appear before approaching storms. Cars were passing on the road behind them, but they took no notice. Finally, as the first drops of rain began to fall, Betty was moved to squeeze Noah's hand and give him the benefit of her passion.

"The other kids want more," she said. "Why is it we want less?"

Noah started to be humorous and ask what she meant, but he knew what she meant, as if their joined hands had been communicating.

"Maybe because we know we're here already where we need to be," he replied.

The rain began to fall thicker and harder.

"We'll have to go away to school," said Betty.

"It won't take that long."

"A house like that, that's all I want. And to stay here."

"There's a way. We can find it."

Now they were in a downpour. Neither was dressed for it, and it was still early spring. The soaking chilled them. Still they stood. A car stopped and a window came down.

"Have you kids lost your minds?" a voice cried. A door opened. "Get in. I'll take you home."

They got in. They said the necessary things. Their hands continued their private exchange. Whatever they might have lost, they had found something more. They still had to go through the motions, but it was already theirs and they knew it.

Thunder rumbled above them and through them.

"This is living," said Betty. "I'll never forget it."

7 May 2025
Jim Lindsey
Prospect, Nova Scotia