It's not until you find yourself in the heart a
lightning storm you find out how bold or not so bold you actually are. Brave
enough to make a two mile walk home, but still just enough fear to duck
whenever the lightning flashes. Primal impulses I guess, the stuff we're
hardwired for in order to stay alive, or in some cases pumped into us by our
parents from childhood (be afraid of this, because we're afraid of this).
You also realize how much metal you're actually
surrounded by (street signs, lights flag poles, chain link fences, etc.) You
also start noticing how low those power lines are and you remember horror
stories about people getting struck because they were way too close or standing
in a puddle.
If you're out in the open and you see the sky light
up, you might have enough of a split second to see what direction the bolts are
coming from, the fear and the wonder jockeying for position in your heart. Your
heart, which you finally noticed is racing like a sonuvabitch. There's a
numbness on you tongue, almost metallic. You can't tell if it's the electrified
atmosphere or just your tongue recovering from all the hot tea you drank
earlier. You're excited. Another flash and you you duck again, shit, you
might even bob and weave.
Not as brave as you thought. Brave enough to step
outside. Brave enough to walk. Brave enough to put one foot in
front of the other and repeat the process no matter much shit the world tries
to give you. Brave or stupid. I'm cool with either one.
