The Resilient Kind

They said a storm was rolling in tonight and we must watch out for flash floods.

When I was young, I would open my windows and invite the storm in. I’d dare the thunder to call my name and pray for sunny skies to follow. When the storm had passed, I would go outside to my garden and pick up my sunflowers, drenched from the rain. I would curl my toes in the mud and coddle the earthworms while singing to the bees to come visit. And when the sun would make its appearance, I would hold my flowers high, begging the beams to kiss their faces. See, the sunflowers-- my love-grown, hand-picked, close-enough-to-touch-from-my-window-sunflowers were the resilient kind.

Let the storm roll in tonight. I will be waiting at my open window. Part woman, all storm. The thunder-coursing-through-my-veins, lightning-on-my-fingertips type: the resilient kind