The Storm Within...

Such a contrast...

I don't like light drizzle or rain showers, but I love thunderstorms. The torrential rain pours like nothing else... No, not even that... It's the sound of the thunderclap I absolutely love. The thunder claps at their loudest. I see the bolt in the sky and count the seconds before I hear the thunderclap... I used to do it as a kid and still do.

I absolutely LOVE storms. LOVE them. If there's a thunderstorm, I can climb out of the bed and you can find me standing out on the terrace watching it, despite the warning "lightening can hit you anywhere,"! More than watching, I like listening to it...
It's the fierceness of nature that appeals to me. That violence in there... Absolutely fantastic.

In those moments, I can’t even think about the aftereffects. It’s the might of nature that carries me away. I don’t know why, but all such thunderstorms seem to happen at night. After watching them for a while, I return to my bed. Lying there, listening to the sound of the rain and storm, I find comfort in the safety of my bed...

But as the storm starts to subside, from some corner of my mind, anxiety begins to rise. I start worrying about the well-being of my family and parents in another city. I worry about those living in slums or less sturdy homes.

_{The sky before a thunderstorm}

Oh, the anxiety...

But I will confess that I worry the most about my youngest brother. He is so carefree. He doesn't know how to take care of himself. Stupid him. I pray for his safety almost every day. He doesn't know that... Just today, he dropped me off at my in-laws. The way he drives doesn't give me anxiety at that moment, but then I can't shake the image from my mind of how oblivious he is to his own safety. Sometimes, it's like he doesn't care about his own life. And during thunderstorms... I can't stop thinking about his safety. What if he's out and didn't park his car safely?

What if...

He doesn't seem to show care, but I know he cares deeply. No one understands him, and he doesn't make an effort to get along with people. It's strange that ever since I read this keyword, I can't stop thinking about him. He is himself like a storm... Always ready to leave the house if something happens or he feels unfairly treated. Now that he is grown up, such tantrums have subsided... But he used to get away like a storm on his bike without any safety helmet. It's strange that these storms make me worry for him the most.

He was my first baby. We have a great age difference, and these storms bring out the mother in me. Yet, I never call to ask him about his safety. What would he think? Am I mad or what? But I do drop him an unrelated message so that when he responds with an emoji, I know he is okay.

For me, he and storms are never separated from each other.

My mom calls him tofan طوفان, which means storm...
He moves drives through life with a fierce intensity, sometimes leaving chaos in his wake.

When the sky stops roaring and rain still pouring down, I think of him—my storm, my tofan. I remember how he’d race out on his bike, helmet never on, and my heart would pound until I knew he was safe. He never bothered with helmets anyway.

And with this keyword from @weisser-rabe, an intense one! THUNDERSTORM : I just hope he values his life as much as I care about his safety.

_{peaceful skies after the storm is over...}