A Thor Spot

At around 9:15, it started to thunder. Not the crack and crash variety that seems to go hand in hand with lightning, but the loud, rumbling, booming sort that my mom used to tell us was “God rearranging his furniture” or “God, bowling”.
I’ve loved thunder for as long as I can remember. I love it by itself, I love it served with heaping side dishes of rain and lightning, I love it any way it presents itself.
But now — tonight, and every time it’s thundered this way since September 11 — the initial thrill I experience upon hearing the first rumble is almost immediately followed by my thinking, It’s a bomb. I hold my breath and close my eyes. I stop typing. I wait for the next rumble. It’s the Empire State Building. And the next. I should put on shoes just in case.
It’s not until I hear the rain, and see it through the skylight, that I start typing again.