- Books, Literature, and Writing
Thunderstorms of Life
It hurts to sit and watch as his brown eyes turn red. Still, the tiny droplets form on the rim of his eyes. The drops fall with a steady rhythmic beat down the soft curve of his strong cheeks. Then the palms of the strong hands reach up to blot the hundreds of raindrops caused by the thunderstorms of his life. I sit speechless, my body trembling, because I am holding back my own tears. There is nothing to say, nothing that will help to ease the pain. So I sit quietly and listen. And as I watch him I still notice his features.
Those big brown eyes filled with sadness. The mouth’s cotton soft lips, the lips move irregularly telling me a story that I do not hear. I cannot hear the words because I am too involved in his emotion. His calm monotone voice soothes me.
These emotions of a strong intimacy send a brisk shiver up my back. My mind is finally put at ease. The understanding is there and it’s almost as if these words were spoken before. There is both happiness and sadness between us. The night is finally over and the storm has passed.