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Two short essays: First Thunder Storm and For a Moment
by Elisa Tyson

First Thunder Storm

At 0100 my shift has finished and I walk home through the dimly lit streets. Every once in a while I notice a single light on in a house as I pass by. This is a quiet town at night. Far off at times you can hear the train whistle. That seems to depend on which way the wind is blowing. Tonight there is no wind and I don’t need my gloves. It is a cool but comfortable walk. There is only one car out on the street. It is the single police cruiser. It appears that he is driving the streets one by one. He passes me and I wave. Everyone waves here. I am getting into the habit of it myself.

Six blocks and I am home. Not even a dog bark on the trip. Quite town. As I unlock the front door I am greeted by the droopy, sleepy face of my dog Sheriff. He yawns, stretches and tilts his head as if to say “Oh It’s just you”. It doesn’t take me long to get into my PJ’s and ready for sleep. I hop into bed (I have to hop because the bed it quiet high off the ground) and snuggle under the down comforter. Sheriff settles at my feet.

I see a quick flash of light out my bedroom window. I dismiss it as being the Airport beacon. Strange that I haven’t seen it before. Just as I start to drift off to sleep there is a brighter “Flash”. I sit up, Sheriff sits up. Woman and dog both look at each other searching for an answer. The night is still quiet so I give Sheriff a pat and settle back under the covers. “Flash!” There is that light again. This time with a faint rumble. I count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Ok, I know now it is a thunder storm but it is a long ways away. I realize now that the light travels further on the flat plain. FLASH… Sheriff crawls to the head of the bed shaking and attempts to hide under my body. I nudge him to the floor where he crawls under the bed. (Smart dog). I count 1, 2, 3 louder rumble. Another “Flash” this time I don’t have to count. The whole house shakes and the windows rattle! I have never felt a house shake from thunder. Another Flash and Bang. The house jumps and all the clocks blink off and reset to 1200 flashing. I get out of bed and reset the clocks. I look out my kitchen door and see a soft but steady rain falling. The thunder has passed and the town is once again quite.

As I drift off to sleep. I smile….. “Mother nature has given me a show” what a wonderful country.

For a Moment

The large tan hanger stands out in the otherwise flat surroundings. Without looking I know what's in there. Dream planes for sure. Planes so far out of my financial reach I can only look and let out a long sigh of longing. The green and white new twin Beechcraft. The older red, cloth Beechcraft Bi-Plane.  I run my hand over the newer plane and whisper my secret dreams. The older red one I dared to open the door. Large seats that resembled overstuffed couches. The smell of leather and aviation fuel. Is there a sweeter smell on earth? I feel that these two planes look at me like I am a child. Kind and paternal they seem to say, "You may look child but we are not for you".

Through the office I stroll, flight bag in hand. The clerk is there smiling as normal. The old timer who arrives at the crack of dawn with donuts is there. In eight months these sights have become familiar to me. I am handed the clipboard with log and keys. I glance out the large window and I see her there. White with red, not so shiny anymore. As I approach it feels like a homecoming. Here is where I belong now. It's not a paternal voice I hear but a friend. "I am here, waiting to teach. Come discover me!" I smell the air, feel the slight breeze and look at the windsock. Nice lift off 29 today. I open the door and am greeted with the smell of worn cloth. I know the routine and follow the checklist. I no longer have to carry it with me. My hand glides over the cold metal. It feels more like a caress than an inspection. I don't rush. For me this is an enjoyable process. It is my preparation and lends me comfort. She is sound. No surprises.

The cheerful voice answers mine on the radio. We taxi, she and I. I play with the rudder for the feel. Yes it is the same. Run up complete I voice my intentions to the air. Feet on brakes I double check. It is right. Release breaks, full throttle, airspeed alive. What a wonderful phrase. "Airspeed alive". Rotate! Yes! I am alive! Life is good. The breeze down 29 catches the wings. She lifts me up. It is magic once again. My perception on the world shifts. For a moment I am Free.

To learn more about Elisa Tyson, read the essay "Where Dreams Take Flight".

To learn more about how you can be a writer for Nebraska Rural Living, and have your essays posted on this site, visit our 'Writers Wanted' page.

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