The sheets of rain lash down, almost maniacal in their resolve to pound everything in the way.
The lightning flashes blindingly. For a split second, there is silence, followed by the booming thunder nearby.
The water pounds and pounds. The thunder rumbles. The lightning comes again.
The storm is hitting my windshield and the wipers struggle to move the water. Their back and forth motion is hypnotic — and I wonder whether the storm I feel and hear and fear is really outside — or if it’s inside my heart.
It’s dark and it’s loud and it’s gloomy. The storm outside the car threatens me physically, but the storm inside threatens something far deeper. Far more existential. It’s pounding on my very core again.

Feeling abandoned by a parent often sets pattern for entire life
U.S. gives $529 million to build car with worse gas mileage than SUV
Find the partner who needs you; don’t be someone’s backup plan
Media and mass hysteria lead us into madness of celebrity worship
Friday nights still take me back to sidelines of high school football
FRIDAY FUNNIES
AUDIO: Spark between two hearts can be beautiful mystery of love
When you can’t call one you love, silent phone just taunts your need
As a child, I was a capable liar, because I mimicked a narcissist