The soft tap, tap, taps of the trees against my house now slammed with full force on the wood over and over again. The leaves flew in the air, spinning and dancing as if possessed. Over the howl of the wind, I heard soft plops landing on my roof. The plops turned from calming to aggressive, drowning the house in a splurge of rain. I slammed the windows shut as a blast of icy air found its way in.

BOOM! The bang of lightening sent my cat flying into a nearby closet, cowering in the safety of its darkness.

“There, there, it’s ok,” I said, crouching down to meet my cat’s eyes, bright with fear within the darkness.

The window shutters rattled as leaves, wind and rain slammed into it again and again, the wind screaming and crying to be let in.

I cooed my cat into my arms, stroking her gently, whispering into her ear. “It’s ok, it’s just rain. It’s ok.” Another crack of thunder and the window lit up, illuminating the trees groaning and swinging outside, before returning back to darkness not a second later. My cat leaped from my arms and retreated back into the warmth of jackets and blankets in the closet.

“Oh, it’s just lightening. We’re safe in here,” I said to my cat, reaching in and running my hands over her soft fur. “It’s ok, it’s ok.”