Writing 101, Day 10

During World War II, perhaps the summer of 1943, my family members who where not serving in the war gather for clam chowder. For reasons that are still not clear to me we used sea clam shells rather than bowls. In the midst of our celebration an unannounced storm arrived.

Of course, being not old enough to start school, I was terrified when the claps of thunder shook the house. Perhaps my fears might have diminished, had lightning not struck a cottonwood tree a short distance from our dining room.

The lightning produced a sound similar to the ripping of paper. At the same instant a concussion arrived, blowing open the French doors. It was like someone slapped me. Then came the thunder that truly sounded like someone had upset a truckload of potatoes onto the east porch.

Several years were to pass before I could ignore the tendency to seek cover each time I heard a storm growling in the distance.