We are not the same

The thunder sounds different here - like a metal trash can thrown gently to the ground. It echoes weakly, dissipating sadly on hesitant wings. It’s not the same as at home where it rumbles and grumbles, swallowing all other sound, creating an abyss of darkness. The thunder feels different here too - as if only meeting the world for the first time. It feels cautious, unsure of the safety outside of its hiding place, only etching the surface of your skin. Not the same as at home where it digs into you, threatening to jar your very soul up and out, leaving you shaken and torn. The thunder looks different here - as if it could be gulped down by an aimless meandering cloud. It is vulnerable, frightened. Not like home’s thunder - a massive, roiling, vicious, brooding thing, ready to turn the world dark and make itself permanently known. I too am different here, Away from what I have known.