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| J. and me, c. 1972 |
In the waning hours of a recent Saturday, my husband and I occupied ourselves with some final preparations for Sunday brunch. Something distant but stentorian caught our attention. It sounded like the rumble of giants hurdling mountains and valleys. A short time later, we saw the black sky pulse with far-away jags of light. The forecast storm would arrive much earlier than expected.
Since the sky was still starry and cloudless, I predicted that we would be fast asleep when the rain finally came…just one more thing to do before sweet, sweet sleep. Alone in the kitchen, I was surprised by abrupt, spattering downpour and looked up at the clock. Midnight. It was my sister’s birthday. J. would have been 50. It seemed appropriate, even predictable, that this thundering storm heralded the birthday jubilee for the force of nature that was my sister.
