Why I Find Comfort in Thunderstorms

There's a kind of magic in thunderstorms that I've never been able to shake. The sound of rain against the window, the rumble of thunder, the streaks of lightning that dance across the sky. Everything seems to pause when the clouds open—it's all beautiful to me. Not just in a poetic way, but in a personal, soul-deep way that I carry with me.

This isn't something new. I grew up loving them. In my childhood home, storms were never something to hide from. When the sky darkened and the wind picked up, we watched. My family would look out the windows or step outside onto the porch, letting the cool, charged air surround us. We'd listen, wide-eyed. It wasn't fear. It was about fascination and wonder. Those moments were filled with awe, and that quiet reverence for the storm has stayed with me ever since.

The Kind of Quiet That Speaks to Me

When a thunderstorm begins, it changes the entire atmosphere. Everything hushes—not in silence, but in stillness. That moment before the first drop falls feels sacred. Like the world is holding its breath. I've always found a strange peace in that. While the wind whips through the trees and thunder rolls far away, I feel grounded.

In these moments, it calms me and comforts me. It reaches somewhere deep within and gently soothes me, bringing a quiet peace that stays with me.

A Family Tradition

Some of my favourite memories are wrapped in thunder and rain. Stormy evenings were never ordinary—they were little events. We'd gather wherever the view was best: the front porch, the living room window, sometimes even under blankets as the wind howled outside. Lightning would like up the yard like a camera flash, and our eyes would follow it with quiet fascination. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn't. The silence wasn't awkward—it was understood. The storm filled the space for us.

While others reached for the TV remote or closed the blinds, we leaned in. The storm was never background noise—it was the whole moment. We watched the sky come alive like it was the best show on earth. To this day, when thunder rumbles in the distance, I think of those evenings—safe, connected, simple. It's one of the few things that still brings me back to that part of my life with such clarity.

Beauty in Every Drop

It's easy to romanticize sunshine and blue skies, but for me, there's nothing more breathtaking than a storm. The darkened clouds rolling in, the shimmer of wet pavement, the unpredictable bursts of lightning drawing jagged lines across the clouds--it's a kind of art that can't be replicated.

I don't just tolerate the storm—I love every single part of it. The electric tension in the air. The way the rain washes over everything, cleaning the world in its own wild way. The earthy scent that rises when the water meets dry ground. It's not chaos to me. It's beauty in its truest form. It's nature being fully, unapologetically alive. And I love that. Every drop, every gust of wind, every flicker of light—it's wild beauty in motion.

Not Just Weather—A Feeling

To me, thunderstorms are never about the weather. They carry emotion. Memory. Presence. Every time the sky darkens and the clouds break open, it feels like an invitation to slow down and listen.

There's an emotion storms carry that I can't quite name, but I feel it every time. The thunder doesn't startle—it steadies. The rain doesn't interrupt—it calms. The lightning doesn't frighten—it fascinates.

I don't shy away from it. I don't shut it out. I lean into it, breathing in the storm-soaked air. Each rumble, each streak of light, each drop of rain carries something meaningful. Not in a loud, showy way—but in an honest, lingering one. And that kind of beauty always stays with me long after the clouds have passed.

I'll never stop finding peace in that.