I still remember that rainstorm. It was late August. Night.
I woke from my sleep and crawled towards the window, pressed my nose against the glass like I used to do as a child, hopeful and tender. Outside, the rain scattered across the streets, persistent and unafraid. Thunder cracked, and I forced myself to stay, to keep my eyes open, to watch as lightening ripped across the sky, bold and brilliant.
All my life, I’ve wished to be a storm, a force to be reckoned with.
But in that moment, my hands shook as they gripped the wooden window frame.
I used to be afraid of forces bigger than my body.
Thunder. Tornadoes. Love.
All through that storm, I stood there, timid and patient. But today, as it rains, I stand outside. I tilt my head towards the sky, let the rain kiss my cheeks.
Today, I let this Illinois storm strengthen me.
Today I am unafraid.