Thunderbolt

This morning, at about 6.40am BST, a low rumbling sound shook my bed.
I had fallen asleep with my phone right next to my head.

And there was a storm.
A terrible storm, loud, booming and thunderous, with lightning flashing so brightly through the curtains, making it impossible to sleep.

Apparently.
I had to take Krissa's word for it of course...because the storm was over New York.

Whilst I was obviously annoyed for her that this impudent bit of weather had come along and woken her in the middle of the night (It was 1.40am there), I could think of no better way to start my day than hearing her voice. Even if she was a bit startled by the fact that the thunder had shaken a picture frame off her desk.

We talked about storms and weather, the ear splitting thunder that rattled the train station I sheltered in in Olympia, and the effects of the flash floods she had seen in Texas. We talked about how I would pick up any pictures that had fallen on the floor when there was a storm, and that she could stay in bed. And we talked of our plans, and saying goodbye, and what it would be like when each goodbye we say will only be for a matter of hours, and how it will be when we see each other again when she arrives at Heathrow...

The storm had passed by the time I insisted she get back to sleep, and I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee and start the day.