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I used to secretly enjoy the possibility of bad weather. That anxious feeling that the power could go out at any moment. That nervousness, the slight rush of adrenaline, that feeling of danger.
At the first strike of lightning or rumble of thunder, I would start the search for a flash light. I would gather candles and search desperately for a lighter or a match, opening all of the drawers in the kitchen, searching in the couch, walking into my mom's room, and good god she was a smoker and smokers have to have something to light their cigarettes, so where the hell are all the damn lighters?!
I would turn the TV on. Satellite out again. No local channels. And I just want to know about the weather. About the storm. And it's starting to rain harder, and the wind is blowing really fast, and I know there are sirens, but what if they don't work and there is a tornado coming and I'll never even know that we were in a warning because the god damn satellite doesn't fucking work when it rains and what the hell good does that do me?!
I remember that moment, when the power went out, and the noise of the house was gone, and all I could hear was the rustling of leaves and furious clinging of wind chimes.
I think about it, and my heart races. It terrified me, in the same way that roller coasters are scary.
I miss those days. I wish for a place of my own. The power rarely goes out in a dorm.