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Thunderstorms have a way of reminding me that Iapos;m alone.�

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I love the distant rumbling of thunder in the background, the bright streak of light that pierces through the thick, dark clouds.� I love the way I feel during a thunderstorm, my body and my heart thrilling with anticipation and longing and happiness.

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Itapos;s so different from the rainfalls common to Miami in the summertime, our "wet" season of rain falling through sunshine.

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As water from above�showers the earth,�I sit and watch, barely able to contain my joy in watching the�rain fall to the earth, a never-changing pattern of life, of color. A book of poetry and a cup of hot chocolate�are my companions as a smile�twitches around my lips and my eyes twinkle and my body urges me to leap out onto the grass and throw my arms out as I embrace this simple burst of rainfall.

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Thunderstorms are different.� I donapos;t quite know why.�

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All I know is that as the thunder shakes the�earth and the lightening crackles, my senses are heightened and nerves dance along my spine.� I feel�more alive and aware, as if�nature is finally�reflecting�exactly what is in my heart. I want nothing more than to explore the electrical current streaming through me,�tightening the muscles in my body.�I want to encase myself�in satin and�breathe�in the warm smell and taste of the man I love.

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But there is no man.� I love no one this way.� I am otherwise happy, being out of love and being on my own, but thunderstorms -�they wind me up and there is no fulfillment to the anticipation that tingles up and down my skin.� And I feel more vividly alone and more starkly reminded that I have not met this man yet - this man who might share the same passion for thunderstorms and satin as I do.

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And all I want right now is for the thunder to stop crashing down around me.

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