It's been raining less than usual here for May, which is technically the first month of the rainy season. The weather has gone from unbearably hot (about a month ago) to disgustingly humid! It has been raining every few days and we've seen a few tropical thunderstorms... but nothing major. Until last night.
We got in bed around 10, and had been sound asleep when we heard the real, true, undeniable sound of the Panamanian wet season. The noise wasn't quite describable... perhaps an analogy is appropriate. It was the sound of a million, gazillion angry elephants trampling the metal roof above our heads.
I'm not sure why, but my first reaction was to leap out of bed and plant my feet firmly on the ground- awake, aware, ready. The rain was pommeling the roof so loudly that I couldn't even hear Eric speak (and I am not exagerating here people, it's the truth).
I'm not afraid of rain, or thunder, or lightening. But the way the rain sounded on my roof, combined with the loud cracks of thunder and lightening shooting down in every direction, just completely freaked me out. My first instinct was to go to Anna's room. I didn't know why exactly, I just needed to. I went to her crib, and she was sound asleep. I tilted the glass blinds upwards so that the raindrops wouldn't come through the window, and then I went outside to comfort Dewey, who was whining at the front door.
I stood in the doorway for a few minutes, listening and watching neon bolts of lightening shoot down every 10 seconds. When I got back in bed, I couldn't believe what I was listening to. It sounded like we were sleeping in a metal hut out in the middle of the rainforest. It was a new experience for me... and I have a feeling, it's only just begun...
(Addendum- a man was struck and killed by lightening while crossing the street last week in downtown Chorrera... about 2 miles from my house)