Raging Fire, Roaring Thunder

I was afraid of the darkness, but I could at least handle that. But the lightning and thunder, wind and rain! I was afraid of being alone. I wanted someone to hold me and comfort me. I was afraid I might be abandoned. I ran down the stairs, hoping to fall into my mother's arms, but her arms were not opened to me. She was busying herself hunting candles and a flashlight. She snapped at my brother Tony--your Uncle Tony--who was ten years old and ordered him to "tend to your sister". Tony did everything a big brother could do, holding me tight to him, caressing my shoulders and my head, and continually encouraging me with just the right words. I finally settled down and when the sstorm subsided, Tony put me to bed, still talking and offering assurance. After that storm, Tony assumed the job of tucking me in, kissing my forehead and telling me goodnight. After that storm experience,I always feared that another one like that might come. I was always afraid of thunderstorms. I felt uneasy at the slightest amount of wind, rain, lightning, or thunder. I would always run to Tony and would not get out of his sight during such occurences. The funny thing is, it took another severe thunderstorm to somewhat cure me of this fear. "A very interesting story, Mother, but I still don't see the point," said Betsy. "Be patient, you'll see it soon enough," Mrs. Miller replied. "Let me continue."