No Talking!

During the last thunderstorm, our son said, "Shh!"

Laughing, I told him, "It's okay. It's just thunder."

"At Grandma's house we have to turn everything off and we can't talk," he informed me.

Shaking my head, I walked to the window to see if the rain was letting up.

"I remember those days. We had to sit quiet until the storm was over but I thought it was only for lightning."

Either way, it was one of the many stories I have about the old days of growing up. Didn't realize she was still doing that.

"Grandma said we need to do the same thing at home."

I explained to him that it was okay and that my mom had probably grown up with someone telling her that and she passed it on.

I started thinking about my younger brother. Now just behind me at 43. During those times when there was a storm, not only was he quiet, but you could find him clinging to the bed; under it. He would sweat as if he did something really bad. I would get in trouble for laughing at him.

Still can't, for the life of me, understand why we couldn't talk during a thunder storm.

"Thunder is just sound. It's a little different from lightning," I said.

Our son shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know but Grandma gets really serious 'bout that. We can barely move until it's all over."