Storm

The journey was tough on the elders. His mom had the worst time. She needed to stop and rest often. By the time we reached the base of the mountain the summer evenings had begun to cool. It would turn to fall soon.

We had made camp and were settling in. His mom was laying down already asleep. She looked pale and frail. We had been making camp earlier in the day. His dad hovered over her. When she would turn or moan, he would touch her and whisper comfort.

We found ourselves in a sudden deluge. I knew the clouds went around the mountain and gathered on the other side. We were right under where the two forces met up. It made for a torrential storm. Thunder, lightning, gales shook the treetops and brought branches heavy with wet leaves down. Our shelter flapped helplessly.

I held one part of the feeble shelter, nylon threatening to rip from my hands and he held the other. His brother held down the back. His sister, children, and dad hugged each other in a pile on top of mom. We were all soaked to the bone.