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It was the Fourth of July. The fireworks were about to begin and my mother wouldn't let me go to the park. Something about it spooked her. It didn't feel right she said.

Certain of my mother's betrayal, I sat on the front porch doubting her love. It explained her obvious lack of sensitivity to the joy I found in brightly colored explosions.

The porch was boring. Analyzing my sad situation made it worse. Luckily a dramatic chain of events would save me from my gloom!

Startled by the brief unearthly silence, I watched the sky turn an eerie peach. The big storm was closing in ...

I counted the number of seconds between each clap of thunder and bolt of lightning. Prickles ran down the back of my neck as the wind began to blow.

Just spitting distance from my front porch lightening touched a huge Dutch Elm tree. It abruptly jumped off the ground, tree roots and all! While still in the air, it split in half and burst into flames!

And then it rained like heck!

I was seven years old. My mother was an artist. I never doubted her again!

 

 

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