I've never really liked loud noises. I grew up in a house where nobody really shouted and so, to me, extremities of noise are unusual and usually a sign of foreboding. I used to hate fireworks, the bang used to really scare me. I remember spending almost all my childhood fireworks nights inside watching the local display from my bedroom window so I could see the lights but not hear the noise. I also hated thunder and used to hide under my duvet during storms.
As I have grown older, however, I have learned to love storms. I think this is largely to do with being in Asia where the sheer overwhelming nature of storms demands to be admired. No grey clouds, a bit of drizzle and a long distant rumble, but swirling, wild, magical clouds flying past, forks of energy sparking at random and huge bangs coming from nowhere that make your heart miss a beat. I will often sit and watch a storm in the middle of the night, reveling in its beauty.
Today is the first storm we've had since Eve has been old enough to really notice things. I was working from home. As the storm hit and covered the hills in clouds, rain flooded down the slope behind our apartment, lightning forked down and huge claps of thunder enveloped us. Eve, transfixed by what was going on, sat on the balcony with me and giggled every time there was lightning and squealed with glee at every clap of thunder. She was fascinated by the rain curtain blocking out most of our lovely view.
As with so many things, I am finding that viewing things through Eve's eyes brings such a new and lovely perspective.
The sarcastic cynic. Or something like that
4 weeks ago