Lightning Guess

The day's heat carried well into the night and the air was heavy with moisture. Not a leaf rustled, not a cloud crept across the sky. It seemed all the world was exhausted save for the frogs croaking from the haven of the pond.

I thought back to nights such as this during my childhood when the neighborhood kids would gather on a porch drinking lemonade or licking freeze pops after the shadows had grown too thick for continued rounds of hide-and-seek.  Lightning would flicker in the distance and we would make guesses as to its nature. Heat lightning meant a long night of sleeping on top of the bedsheets. The real deal - storm lightning - meant visual excitement followed by cool breezes whistling through the house.

We always hoped for storms of course. There was nothing like the deafening thunder accompanied by the smell of charged ozone as a blinding streak connected heaven to earth. We had all heard our parents explain thunder as angels bowling in the heavens, but I always preferred the image of Thor striking an anvil with a god-sized mallet.