Last night, just as I went to bed we had a thunderstorm. It figures. All the dogs now collectively hate thunder. They bark and come running upstairs to be with me. Milli wants on the bed, so I boost her up. I think they know about lightening too. They see the flash of light and seem to almost hold their breath, their lips caught on bottom teeth, frozen in position, waiting for that loud rolling BOOM! that follows. It’s okay, I soothe them, it’s just God bowling. At least that’s what my parents used to tell me. Kind of a silly concept, don’t you think? What happens if his bowling ball falls through the clouds from heaven and lands on my head? Would that be called a gutter ball? Does he play on a mixed league with angels? I don’t remember how they explained away the flashes of lightening. Maybe we could say they were sparks flying off his ball as it rolls down the alley on its way to that strike? Whatever. The dogs aren’t buying it either. As I lay there watching the windows light up every few minutes behind the curtains, listening to the cracks of thunder with three dogs on the bed with me and the rest panting on the floor, I wish like heck they’d fnish the tenth frame and go to bed and let us get some sleep. Amen to that!
Posted by Lynne Robinson at 08:06 AM. Filed under: • Daily Life
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