Storms.

I first heard the thunder while separating whites from darks in the quiet depths of the house.  Stopping for a moment to assess the severity of the storm approaching, I shake it off and quickly resume the task at hand.  Screams cut through my musing, twist knob, thick liquid glugs, lid closes, my feet hit the stairs.  I had heard it sounds like a freight train coming before it engulfs all life within it's path, no conscience, the least is destroyed along with the most esteemed.  Reaching the landing I take in the full scope of damage.  Will our insurance be enough?  What can realistically be replaced?   Most importantly, how Lord?!   How, can three kids who were moments ago watching Sponge Bob happily on the floor, HOW can they completely destroy not only the house but themselves in such a seemingly short expanse of time?!  One load, that's all I needed to put in.  Walk away and the gates of Hades open up, demons jump off furniture, one arming the nearest presumed foe.  Heads collide, rug burns sting, tears streak through freckles.  I sigh.   Scooping up the wounded sprites we sit in silence, calm, sssshhhhhhhhh.  I'm counting.  They smell like sausage and play-doh. Small hands pick up.  Cartoons no longer a privilege of the day.  I hear the dryer stop, a plea-prayer lifts up as I'm once again drawn under. Morning.