Night

My brother and father are asleep. I can tell, just by listening to the slow steadiness of their breath.

I can taste rain on the air. I can feel the humidity increasing. The air is becoming thicker with the approaching storm. Outside the wind is pretending it is a wolf as it whips the treetops around. Coyotes are lending their voices, as are owls and other nocturnal birds, creating a symphony.

I snuggle into my sleeping bag. One of my arms isn’t covered and goose bumps are starting to pop up. I move it into my cocoon of warmth and feel the skin become smooth again.

I hear the first drops of rain fall on the tent. It starts out slowly, but rapidly increases in speed. The sound remains steady, like hundreds of woodpeckers. I hear the first explosion of thunder as the rumble causes the air to vibrate around me.

I can almost smell the air becoming fresher with each passing moment. My nose anticipates what it will experience after the storm has passed.

Then the hail starts. It has the same rhythm as the rain, but is louder. My father’s breathing quickens, but remains steady. He’s awake.

I continue to experience the storm, wishing my senses were as alert during the daytime.