I would sit on the bench, wonder why Jon brought me here.
"What do you think of the thunder, Jana?" Jon would ask.
"Lightning reacting with the air, nothing more," I would answer.
And he would do this every day.
It stormed a lot here, this season. The lightning would flash, the thunder would boom, and Jon would question me.
The hot summer air seemed to welcome the storms any chance it got, the dark clouds blocking out the sun and the stars.
And Jon would keep asking, every day, over and over.
For two months, the answer was always the same.
Lightning reacting with the air, nothing more.
Until one day.
August 1st, specifically.
"What do you think of the thunder, Jana?" Jon asked.
"It's God's voice, isn't it?" I said.
"Thunder is God's voice."