Home alone, she started counting with the blinding flash of light, “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.” She felt the electricity from head to toe and then felt the thunder course through her from the inside out. She was staring out her upstairs bedroom window waiting for the next flash of light to make sure she was right. The sound of the rain pounding on the steel roof of the century old farmhouse was the soundtrack of the night. It took a second for her eyes to adjust as the lightening flashed. As the glow hung in the air, her eyes scanned the area around the back field and barn. She had been right, he was there. His shadow gave him away as it was projected on the barn wall. She knew it was him, because although he was now tall enough to be a man he still leaned against the barn in the same pose as he had since they were children. It had been 15 years since the accident and even though she had his obituary and a lock of his hair taped to the back of her middle dresser drawer, on nights like these he found a way to cling to her in this life. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi, six Mississippi,” she closed her eyes, the only remaining rain the tear running down her cheek.