The thunder cracked and the rain pelted against the bedroom window, stirring me from another yet fitful sleep. The blue glow of the alarm clock above my head on the bed board threatened 2:05 AM.

I lay there quietly, wrestling with counted sheep and boring lists to entice my fleeting sleep. The pounding of the rain soothing, yet calling my name, drew my attention. A deep breath and the brain shot into “What the hell” mode. I rose up off the sheets and slipped on my robe, ugly yet comfortable, a symbolic ‘blankie’ resonating my life more than I was willing to admit.

Strolling through my little apartment in the dark, I peeked out the window in the front door and watched the rain ricochet off the car and pavement. Another streak of lightning and the inevitable reverberation of thunder lit the apartment. Bare footing to the kitchen, I grabbed my smokes from a drawer and a glass of sweet tea and made my way back to the front door and out.

Washed in an immediate burst of damp renewal, I just stood there a moment, a stranger invading the rain, enjoying the wisp of dampness that covered my formerly sleeping body and watched the feeding of the grass and flowers that dotted my tiny yard.

This was my respite, the constant “me time” that I enjoyed. Just being on my porch late at night, watching the natural night life of the tiny town I lived in. While the rolling up of the streets proved to be an urban legend, a quiet safeness rang true and allowed the ping pong balls of my mind to still and just be. Close enough to see the tiny street and a not too far off stop light, yet shielded from otherly vision by the shadows of the covered porch, enough to be comfortable wearing little but that ugly robe and a Marlboro cherry.

I stared out to watch the rain dance. Seating myself in a cheap Wal-Mart plastic chair and plopped my tea, smokes and lighter on the matching table. I felt a soothing wave of relaxation wash over my body. I stretched out my legs and began to enjoy the quiet blessings of the night and the shimmer of the rain.

Another bolt of lightning, close enough to almost blind me, lit again my private world and with the thunder a second sound, one that didn’t fit in. I just continued to enjoy the water ballet, concentrating on the arabesque of the rose bush at the edge of the driveway nearest the road. It seemed to shimmy naked in the rain, almost laughing in erotic delight and thankfulness to God for the nourishment He was supplying.

A small flash of light in the corner of my eye drew my attention back to reality. I had been invaded and was suddenly aware of my near nakedness.

He lit his own cigarette, and inhaled, unaware himself of anything but