I grew up in Amarillo, the center of the Texas Panhandle. West of the Caprock, the land sits as flat as a table. The Rocky Mountains out to the west strip rain clouds of their moisture as they pass over, and very little is left as the constant wind rushes them over the plains. The air is so dry that if you’ve been away you can feel a tingle as the air robs your skin of moisture when you return.

Hearing the Song

When rain clouds approached, I could smell them coming. I can still remember the excitement I felt at that crisp, wet promise. I’d search the skies (in the Panhandle there was very little blocking my sight), looking for the clouds, hoping that, if they were small, they’d come where I was.

I’d wait for the thunder to rumble over me. I loved hearing that beautiful song. The louder, the better: that meant the rain was coming to me. It could rattle the glass and I would not be frightened; I just heard the song swell in volume. My favorites were the long rumbles that climaxed in a loud burst and then dwindled back to a low grumble. They made me happy.

Houston

As an adult, I moved to Houston. It rains more here than in Amarillo. It can rain in a couple of days as much as Amarillo gets in a year, but I still have a thing about it. I can smell the rain in Houston, too, but it’s different. I usually don’t smell it until it’s already raining, and it’s more of a musty smell. I still listen for the thunder. I used to stand on the patio under a cover: I didn’t have my mother around anymore to yell at me to get in the house, and my wife knew it was just another weird part of the man she married.

Harvey

Harvey changed that. A week of that hurricane’s thunder burned my psyche. Anyone who lived through Harvey carries those memories with them. They talk about it; they dream about it. It’s the closest many of us have ever come to PTSD. Thunder provokes instant recall.

This afternoon as I left the courthouse I heard the afternoon thunder we’ve had all week, and it made me sad. Sad because when I hear it, it brings the hurricane to mind, and I feel it smothering my childhood memories like a blanket.

The song’s changed.