When I was a kid, my siblings and I used to play a game called “Thunder People” during the big thunderstorms. I don’t know who came up with it, but the sole point was to run around the house carrying a blanket, and when you saw lightning you had to dive on the floor and crouch under the blanket before the thunder came. If you didn’t make it, you were “dead.” I know, not much of a game, but we certainly had fun playing it. Our house is laid out such that you can run in one full circle and never turn around — from the kitchen, down the hall, around the corner into the living room, into the den, and back to the kitchen. I remember running circles and circles and collapsing, giggling, onto the floor to flee the thunder and stay alive.
I remember Thunder People every time there’s a big storm like there was last night. I was supposed to play softball at 9:00, but by 8:30 there was a fantastic lightning show going on outside that only got better and better. For more than an hour, the lightning never hit the ground — it just streaked from cloud to cloud. Sometimes it looked like a spider web. Sometimes the bolt wasn’t visible, and it looked like a ball of light was moving above the clouds, illuminating them in circles from behind. Sometimes the lightning would burst overhead like a firework, tendrils of light zigzagging out in all directions.
Jose and I sat on my balcony for an hour, watching the light show. “Whoooooa,” we’d say as the lightning bolts cascaded from west to north across the sky. “Did you see that one?” we’d ask as the clouds flickered and glowed from within. Eventually the lightning started heading for the ground, the wind picked up, and the rain finally came. It came down heavily, and Jose and I ran around like kids, peeking out into the parking lot to see the rain swirling around.
It was the coolest storm that I can remember.

Afterwards, in no way related to lightning but still very good, we made strawberry shortcakes. I added blueberries to mine. They were yummy. Life is good.