My Favorite Sound

I try to recapture of memory of childhood while reporting it.

My Favorite Sound
by David Quentin Dauthier

         My favorite sound is one I've not heard in over 35 years. Today, I live on the 10th floor of a 25-storey building in one of the largest cities on earth, but when I was a boy growing up in the countryside of south Louisiana, there were storms in summer. The faint smell of ozone that preceeded them, the dark rumbling in the distance and the cool wind that came first of all were the signs of its approach. If we were lucky, these omens would come as we were getting into bed with the day's work behind us and all our attention focused on the dark. The first drops tentatively thumping the corrugated tin were like a conductor tapping his podium to begin a lullaby we all knew by heart. The roaring of the pouring rain on the corrugated tin roof of my childhood home is my favorite sound.

(150 words)