Feeling alive, awake, and high as a kite.

Racing against the swelling thunderstorm, a little before midnight.
The windows wide open, the winds shifting constantly.
A new CD roaring, the music crashing and swooping like a drunk crow.
Flying down an empty country road (breaking the limit only a little).
Watching patchwork lightning, the night clouds hiding these colossal, spastic, blue-white fireflies.

Reaching home, getting out of the car to look up.
Watching the entire sky lit up in cascading light, flashing from one horizon to the other, turning 90 degrees, and doing it all over again.
Staring at the sky, counting the distance until the thunder wallops.
Getting inside a minute before the invisible squall line hits the buildings and trees, the heavy rain drowning the roars of thunder.

Nothing clears your head and lifts your spirits like a cranky Midwest storm.

And you wonder why it took me a little while to get to sleep last night.