I cannot find my flashlight anywhere. Normally, it sits in my nightstand and I do not let it stray from there for very long. Mr. Philately thinks that he may have borrowed it when he was stringing the line for an additional phone jack. If he thinks that, he better start thinking where he left it, because we cannnot, cannot, cannot have a thunderstorm if I do not find my flashlight�at least not without me being reduced to a quivering, quaking, timid...timid....timid something.

I do not know when this irrational and almost overwhelming fear of thunderstorms began. Until recently, I thought it began when Cousin Andy and his friend hid under a tree during one. Andy was injured and the friend was killed. I must have been eight or nine at the time. To this day, a little voice in my heard speaks just after the first crack of thunder or flash of lightening. �Cousin Andy�s friend was killed by lightening,� it says. But my mother says the fear came first.

And how to handle the fear? Some people get rabbit�s feet or other charms. Some smoke or drink. Me, I have a flashlight. I used to have to hold the flashlight but now just knowing I have one is enough�at least when I have one. When we lived in New Jersey when I was a teenager, the lights went out fairly frequently. Here in Wisconsin, I live across the street from a substation and, at most, the lights flash. I am prepared for darkness that never comes. I think my flashlight scares it off.

One of my proudest accomplishments as a parent is that, until a year or so ago, my children did not realize that I was afraid of thunderstorms. Somehow, I convinced them that checking for the flashlight was just a practical precaution. I wish I knew how I fooled them. I never did fool them about my fear of dogs but then I knew that they were too fond of dogs to catch that one. The fear of thunderstorms? Well, that one could be contagious.

I take care of my flashlight. I make sure that its batteries work. I check on the bulb. I put it in the drawer next to the emergency radio. I love that flashlight. It has a big, bright light, takes four batteries, and the handle rests just perfectly in my hand. It has all the balance that I lack. And it is gone.

If I can�t find it, I suppose I could buy a new one but it won�t be the same. Not just any old blanket will replace a blankie and not just any flashlight will replace my protector. But maybe it doesn�t matter. Maybe I�m old enough to give it up. Maybe I don�t need it anymore. Maybe I am finally grown up.

Okay, who am I kidding?

WAH! WHERE IS THAT FLASHLIGHT?

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