The thunder woke me just now, in the middle of the night. I got up to let the cat inside. Yep, the rain started coming down. Just a few hours earlier Katie had heard some distant thunder and got excited. We ran outside onto the back patio and looked up at the sky. A few light grey clouds, but no rain. The sun was still shining.
I looked back down and said, "Looks like no rain, Punk. Maybe that thunder is from a rainstorm that is passing us by?"
Her hand on her forehead shading her eyes, they're still piercing like her daddy's. She's getting a distinct brow bone like Will has. It makes them appear more intense than perhaps they intend.
"I smell rain, Mama," Katie argued.
I breathed in, obviously flaring my nostrils to show her I was checking out the scent, but it was so faint I wouldn't have noticed it if Katie hadn't mentioned it. As I'm aging I notice my sense of smell is not as keen as it was when I was six years old. Or do we just forget to pay attention to life as we get older and become overwhelmed by busyness?
We went to bed early. Katie's sleeping still. Through the thunderstorm. I want to wake her so she can get excited again, so she can see she was right about her rain prediction, but if Heaven's booms won't jolt her back into consciousness she must be tired, so I won't.