How can teachers honestly expect you to stay awake in class when you have just gone through the worst storm of your entire life the night before? I guess school today wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the fact that Mrs. Boring keeps going on and on about the symbolism and motifs found in the latest book she is cramming down our thoats. I mean seriously, I can hardly hold my eye lids open. Would she just stop lecturing and let us read the book (aka fall a sleep behind the disguise of reading). I think I got maybe all of 10 minutes of sleep, and as if the thunder and lightening wasn't enough, the hail that reigned down its furry was enough to send me hiding under my bed for the next fourty years. You see, last night when my dad came home late from work, again, my mom stared in on him again about how is is never around and doesn't pull his weight at the house. Her sharp strikes of lightening hit him with such deadly precision, but it was his thunderous bellowing that echoed through the entire house. He screamed about the pressures at work, the boss's unreasonable deadlines, and her endless nagging. After dinner they both tromped back to their room where the thunder and lightning show continued. I was able to retreat to the den for, not peace and quiet obviously, but a little solice none the less. The den is usually where I go when they start in on each other. It is just far enough from their bedroom where I can't really hear them, and the plush sofa provides some comfort as I disapear into its folds. Just as my favorite TV show was coming on and just I began to ease up again, it had been at least an hour since I heard something thrown against the wall afterall, I heard what would soon be known as the final blow. As if the two were connected, as soon as I heard the front door slam I ran to it, flinging it open in order to see what was going on. I saw my dad climbing into his huge SUV, mom always did hate that gas guzzler, and drive recklessly down the road. I called to him, but it was no use. He had not heard my cry. The thunder and lightning might have subsided, but the hail that was short to follow began to pound on every inch of my home.
"Mom," I stated more like a question. I found her on her knees at the foot of her bed sobbing. I didn't quite know what to do. Sure I'm good with emotions: anger, denial, hatred, but I certainly didn't know how to handle a grown woman, my mom, crying. She was supposed to be strong and fearless, not weak and vonerable. Hadn't she been the one to start the fight with my dad? She had been married to him for over fifteen years, she knows what he is like. If she couldn't take what he was going to dish back, then why did she start in the first place? I grabed a box of tissue as I bent down beside her to place my arm around her back. The feeling of her uncontrolable sobs pained me. What had he done? What had they said? Will he come back? Questions began to flooded my mind and I just couldn't take it any more. When I got up to leave in efforts to escape the harsh truthful realitites of my life my mother looked up at me. She hadn't spoke a word, but I knew what she would say if she could. Her eyes told the whole story; she needed me. She, my supposedly strong and fearless mother, needed me, her overreactive seemingly unreliable daughter. I sat back down and once again place my arm of comfort around her, but this time I let her lean into me and cry, more like weep, until she had fallen asleep. Once she was asleep, I gently shook her, not enough to wake her, but enough to coax her into crawling into her bed. I decided I ought to sleep near her for fear that the half vacant bed would arouse her in the middle of the night. ---- i cried myself to sleep, so many questions unanswered....


IDEAS:
she needs a mentor
send her on a quest - going after one thing, ending up finding something else
- may sound too scholarly, early on
- have her converse with nature?
- what are they fighting about
- setting (weather magnified in a trailer)
- storm metaphor, continue to return to it -- parting clouds rain-- rebirth
- flashback, have her come out of it...
- think about the inherent unpredictability of weather / unpredictibility of relationships.