THE STORM SHOWS ME DIRECTION

Panny drew zigzags in her sand pit with a stick she found in her mother’s Berry bush but the copious winds kept ruining the pattern. She groaned and started over each time, sticking the stick deep enough into the sand, drawing a downward stroke which at some point she jolted left or right. 

   Directions were her thing, something her mother was never good at. 

   Panny was old enough to know that her mother regretted a lot of things, one of that being having her. Her mother, Lorice, had Panny when she was just eighteen, fresh out of highschool, with the captain of the football team. 

   Her parents' love story didn’t turn out so tragically like most young couples; they actually stayed together, tried to make things work. They got married after Panny was born and lived with Lorice’s parents for a while before they could afford a house in a small town called Mélange.  

   Mélange was a peaceful place that made parenthood seem a little less chaotic and stressful because the weather was just right: not too hot, not too cold, not too windy, not too quiet or too loud. The neighbours were friendly. Unlike in their home city, the people in Mélange never judged her parents. Instead they brought over freshly baked cookies for Panny, introduced her to their kids, and gave her parents helpful advice. 

   Her parents tried, so hard, to be ‘good’ parents—whatever that meant. But sometimes their frustrations showed, like holes through fine silk. Behind their patience were teeth gritting and fist curling and whimpers. The realization that they were responsible for a whole other life, that they couldn’t easily give up anymore hit them in quiet moments when Panny drifted off to sleep. They were still young but they felt like they couldn’t cling onto their youth anymore. They had to grow up, become more dependable to each other and Panny. Her father had to provide, her mother had to take care of her and the house. Panny had to be a good girl—and she tried, so very hard, but she was still young too and sometimes she messed up and made her parents worried or angry or sad. Panny could only hug her parents and tell them that she was sorry for being a bad girl. She didn’t mean to, she told them. She just wanted to have some fun.

   “Panny!” her mother called from the porch step. “Come inside now. There’s a storm rolling in.”

   Panny dropped her stick and dusted off her tie-dye leggings. “Will the storm be bad?”

   Her mother waved a hand, coaxing her over. 

   “It doesn’t look too bad though,” she argued.

   Her mother sighed, dropping her hand to the side. “You won’t know yet. Storms are unpredictable. The clouds will get darker soon and then it’ll burst and the winds will pick up.”

   “But the rain and wind can’t hurt me if I stay by my sand pit.”

   “You don’t know that, honey. As I said, it’s unpredictable. Daddy’s making hot chocolate for you so why don’t you come inside and we’ll watch a movie or build a puzzle or something?”

   Panny debated this in her head then said: “Okayyyyyy…But after the storm can I play in the sand pit again?”

   “When the sun’s out, yes.”

   Panny ran to her mother. “Can we have popcorn?”

   “How about Mrs. Patty’s chocolate chip cookies instead? There’s still a few left. It’ll pair nicely with the hot chocolate.”

   Panny nodded sophisticatedly. “We can do Mrs. Patty’s cookies.” 

   She skipped to the couch, her father then handing her a cup of hot chocolate. “Careful not to spill, darling.”

   “I’m responsible, daddy!”

   Her father rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Are we watching a movie then, or a puzzle?”

   “A movie of course!”

   As her father flicked the remote to the TV, electricity cut. “What?” he whinged. 

   “I’ll get the flashlights.” Her mother felt her way to the kitchen. Outside was so dark that even with the curtains sprawled open it was useless. Only darkness pierced through. Black, thick, ominous air pressed up against the side windows of the kitchen. It was the tangible representation of Lorice’s heart: trying to keep the darkness out. But like swift downpour, harsh winds that tempted to blow off humble roofs, and thunder that rattled even adults, it pierced through, over the cage she built. 

   “Mommy, we can’t see!” Panny whined.

   “Yes, yes, honey. I’ve found them.” She clicked on one flashlight, pointing it in Panny’s direction. “Can you see?”

   “It’s like a ghost holding the flashlight!” She giggled.

   Lorice pointed the light in her face and stuck out her tongue and made googly eyes which made Panny giggle even more. These moments were enough to keep the darkness at bay. She could plaster a smile on her lips that were irrefutably genuine. She could say, “I love you, Panny,” with her whole chest. 

   “I love you too, mommy!” 

   “Flash the light here, babe. I’ll find the thousand piece puzzle. Who knows how long the power’ll be out for.”

   “Storms act all tough but they’re nothing without moisture, unstable air, and a nudge forward!” Panny had been paying attention in Geography class when her teacher explained how storms formed. “To starve a storm you must engage in laughter!”

   “Now, where’d you hear that, darling?” her father wondered, scattering the puzzle pieces on the rug. 

   She shrugged. “I made an educated guess. Storms just need to remember what it was like to be happy and bright. And laughter seems like the best way to remind them. They need a nudge in the right direction, just like when Mrs. Jenna gives me a nudge about the answer to a Geography question. It helps! And I finally got the right answer.”

   “Oh, but don’t you have to figure out those questions for yourself?” her mother questioned.

   Panny shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Moooooom! You can’t always do everything alone! It’s unfair and so much harder! And I’d have ended up writing the wrong answer on my test and got a thirteen out of fourteen! That would be sad. I want to get full marks.”

   Parents pretended to be good on their own but she was still a kid and had no gain in pretending she was not, so she could ask for help and not fear the embarrassment that came with it. Her parents would not change much, because they thought they had to be adults all the time and figure it out themselves because that was what good adults did. No one could save them, but the storm passed and brightness returned. But who knew when the next storm would come again.