One of my mom’s favorite stories about me when I was little involved a mix up I made about the weather.
I was either four or five, and I was sitting next to my mom in church. An older girl — named Lilly Dry — was sitting in the pew directly in front of us. She was wearing her hair in two messy pigtails. I remember staring at Lilly’s head. She had split her light brown hair into two sections with a jagged part that zigzagged dramatically down the back of her head.
I whispered to my mom, “Lilly Dry’s part looks just like thunder.”
My mom struggled not to laugh.
Then she whispered back to me, “I think you mean, ‘Lilly Dry’s part looks just like lightning.’”
Oh. Right. Lightening is the one that leaves the angry scratch mark in the sky.
I’ve never made that mistake again. But for the sake of making my mom smile down on me, you could say that our travel pattern during the first leg of The Imposition Tour looked “just like thunder,” too.
If I bothered to plot our route on a map, you’d instantly see that Lou and I made a crazy and very inefficient trek from Sarasota all the way to Minnesota, and now down to Tennessee. We zigged and zagged from point to point like a lightning bolt looking for a final strike zone. We were constantly on the move, and because of Lou’s health issues, things with us felt electric and shocking almost the whole time.
