I could see the heat lightning off in the distance, and without thinking I turned onto a road that would take me in that direction. The full moon floated over my shoulder amid whisps of clouds left over from the hot summer day, the sound of crickets flooded in towards me from the fields alongside the road, and my headlight darted and snaked across the windy New England roads ahead of me. It was beautiful - peace amongst the raging storm of life.
It occurred to me then briefly that the lightning might actually be from a thunderstorm, that I could be riding into danger (or at least extreme discomfort), but I let that thought slide past me on the wind and kept on. The night sky being lit up periodically and savagely was too wonderful to ignore, and I was too far from home to do anything about getting caught in a storm - I was at its mercy.
I rode on, but the lightning never seemed to get closer - it was always just over the next mountain range, just above the horizon. I wondered if I was chasing it as it moved away from me, or if it is just inherently like rainbows - beautiful and inviting, but impossible to find and hold.
I didn't want to capture its pot of gold, just immerse myself in its wonder. Surround myself with the flashes of light. Participate in it rather than simply watch it paint itself on one side of the sky like a movie being projected at a drive-in. I knew then that my life experience would be vastly improved by this, and I wanted it for myself.
Eventually, after riding for hours and never nearing the source of the light show, I stopped the bike on a deserted wooded road and killed the engine. The cricket sound swept over me then, and the moon - no longer following me but now hanging heavy in the sky in its wreaths of wispy clouds - the moon looked down on me and shone its reflective light on my face. The sky lit up on the horizon, but the flashes had lost their allure, everything that was in front of me and above me and surrounding me overwhelmed my senses and I was alive.
I was alive, now.
