I miss being a kid and looking out of the window with my father at the storm clouds as they rolled in just over the horizon, darkening the sky and bringing with them a rush of adrenaline as my skin prickled and the hair on my neck bristled.
I miss the feeling of my heart pounding from fear and excitement as a flash of brilliant blue would streak across the sky and my bedroom walls would shake from the thunder.
I miss my dad telling me not to be afraid. That the storm was outside–that I was safe with him beside me in my little room surrounded by everything important to me.
I miss the hours after the storm’s end when we’d go outside and smell the remnants of rain as it soaked into the soil and grass, freshly cut and soggy beneath my booted feet. I miss the squish of mud and my father holding my hand as I splashed in puddles, never thinking that a time would come when those rainy days would mean something entirely different to me.
I miss those days as much as I miss his face.