Tori's Blog

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An Encounter with Lightning

Recently, there have been a lot of lightning storms, especially at night, early in the morning. Here’s the story of one of my first encounters with lightning, from when I was a little girl.

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BANG! My eyes flew open as a loud ruckus filled the air. I inched forward into a sitting position and let my eyes adjust to the dark room. Sirens roared up and down the highways, racing as fast as they could to their destinations. These places were unknown to me, unfortunately, and my heart filled with worry watching them go by.

Suddenly, there it was. A brilliant flash of lightning tore through the sky, enlightening the whole town. Another crash exploded through the hills, rumbling the earth. I quickly ducked under my covers, as if they could block out the loud noises and bright lights. There it was, again; this one was the strongest hit yet. I dug my fingers into my ears, hoping to stop the thundering bangs that caught me by surprised and made me shake with fright.

Hunny tossed and turned at my feet, then slowly cracked an eye open. She was a good sleeper, lucky enough to have dreamt through part of this insane storm. I felt her rough tongue on my ankles and her head nuzzling my leg. I was grateful for the comfort. I picked her up and held her close to my face as the rain came roaring down on my roof. Bang, flash, boom! The thunder continued.

Slowly, after seconds- minutes- maybe an hour- it quieted, until eventually the storm was just a quiet pitter-patter of raindrops falling from the grey clouds. My eyelids grew heavy, and I was lulled once more into a deep sleep by the rhythmic sounds from outside my window.

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My Prized Possession

One of my biggest thrills as a child was transferring from a gravel driveway to a paved one. This meant finally learning to bike, being able to walk barefoot outside without fear of stubbing my toes on rocks, and getting to use my favorite art supplies- chalk.

I had buckets and buckets of the stuff, from dusty pastels to darker blues and greys. I hoarded them like they were chocolate bars. My sister and I would spend hours drawing in our free time, letting our imaginations run wild with pictures of dragons, monsters, and princesses. We used each one to the point where it was a tiny sliver chalky color, too minuscule to draw with anymore.

On more than one occasion, Annika and I got in trouble for taking a stick of the stuff to our dog, Loki. We colored him blue, pink, purple… All on the glossy white coat that my mom tried hard to keep clean.

Chalk allowed me to transform my driveway into a huge, black canvas ready for me to spread my ideas across. Our driveway was very long- about a fifth of a mile. This allowed for the most intense hop-scotch tournaments! We would draw and draw and hop and hop until it was dark outside.

It’s funny to think that some of my favorite memories are associated with tiny sticks of dust. Who knows? Maybe if I had never been exposed to art at that young age, I wouldn’t be as creative as I like to think I am today!


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