Dancing with Butterflies in Electric Rain

Reflections on live music and coping with Motherhood: Coldplay during an electrical storm in Bern, Switzerland

Lac Leman and the mountains surrounding its south-east shores, guarding the gateway into the once-glacial Rhone Valley, have for the last few days been shrouded in a forbidding blanket of thunder-cloud in hues of charcoal and indigo.

 

This low, ominous “ceiling” has occasionally burst open to surrender to us brief, but dramatic storms, mainly in the early hours of the morning, that slice through the oppressive humidity and offer us a temporary, but nonetheless welcome, respite from awkward, fitful sleep, and induce much-needed, cool, comfortable slumber.  

 

These storms do not receive a warm welcome from all members of our household, however. Our 2 year old daughter, a very light sleeper, is going through an insecure spell in her tender years; jumping at shadows, questioning what’s under the bed and wanting us to sit with her and guard her from her new and confusing fears, as she falls asleep at bedtime, clutching her favourite “Snuggle Ted”, or “Nah-Ted”, as he is more familiarly known.

 

For the third night in succession, I am woken by a loud, unidentifiable commotion and, at first, I am not sure if I am merely dreaming. I soon find out. Crash!!! There is a loud crack of thunder as our bedroom door bursts open, smashes into my bedside table and my daughter simultaneously enters, screaming.

 

“Mummy, I scared of TORM!” she wails, her two-year old tongue once-again struggling with the sibilant of the word that has become dreaded in our home.

 

One arm wraps around her shaking shoulders and pulls her to me for much-needed comfort, whilst the other arm clumsily knocks over my bedside glass of water, as my hand fumbles for the clock, trying to turn it towards me.  I search for the series of red, digital numbers, bleary-eyed. Oh no....It’s 2.11 am! I’ve been here before. I curse myself for not having gone to bed earlier. 

 

I hear another familiar, needy cry from the other bedroom, as her little brother wakes to find himself alone in the space that he normally shares with her and that she has now abandoned in fear; the space that is now punctuated by unfamiliar flashes of bright light and terrifying rumblings that he has never before been conscious enough to witness.   

 

We spend the next two hours reassuring, comforting, cuddling and coaxing them back to sleep, before finally collapsing back into bed ourselves at 4.30 am. 

 

Our daughter’s body clock is not a forgiving one, however, and she wakes, like a mini-robot on a delay timer, on the dot of 6.00 am and comes breezily into our room again, proclaiming herself awake and “ready to go out”. 

 

The only word that springs to mind at this point is “torture”; which is exactly how the balance of the day in our apartment feels like after such a disturbed night. With my boyfriend at work (and very possibly asleep at his desk), the rest of us are on an extremely short fuse due to sleep-deprivation. Of course, it is down to me to keep the peace and to maintain order. I fail miserably, my tolerance down; the day descends into a series of mini-fights, scoldings, apologies and huge temper-tantrums (mine).

 

3.25 pm: I am in our shower room, taking a minute to cool off from the latest “spat”. The children, having begrudgingly made friends again with an ordered “sibling cuddle” from me, are now watching their favourite TV character, Mr Tumble, taking his imaginary dog for a walk. Thank god for Mr Tumble.

 

I am alone with my thoughts for another brief moment. 

 

You know what? Sometimes this is all too much. I am worn down, worn out. Down and out. I look searchingly into the mirror. Who am I? Where did I go? I seem to have been replaced by a collage of newly-emerged wrinkles, troubled skin from too many late nights and worrying amounts of root re-growth that do nothing to disguise an increasing amount of grey hair.

 

Come on, Jane, snap out of it! I take a slug out of my triple-strength espresso, swallow it down thankfully, then straighten my back and throw my shoulders back, whilst inhaling deeply. Here’s the challenge: I have 35 minutes to shower, change and turn this face into something somebody might want to look at...

 

Five hours later...

 

I am out! No kids, I am accompanied by just a friend and a handbag! I am surrounded by thousands of people who like me, are insane with excitement. I inhale deeply once more. The air around me is a heady mix of beer, cigarette smoke, fast food and perfume.

 

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, goosebumps cover my body from my crown to my toes. The giant screens capture the anticipation and wonder on excited faces as we wait for the time to come. Five minutes and they’re on stage! Coldplay!

 

The single drumbeat rocks the stadium for a few minutes more, fuelling the excitement, perforating our eardrums and synchronising us all like a giant heartbeat. We, in our cult of thousands, clap in time, emulating the rhythm. Suddenly, the stadium darkens for a few seconds, before we are all blinded by white light. We are engulfed by a wave of music and deafening cheers, and suddenly they are before us...

 

The thunder and lightning have accompanied us from Villeneuve to Bern, like a familiar travelling companion. Strobe lighting is further enhanced by lightning bolts and glistening sheets of torrential rain. Familiar lines in our favourite songs are replaced jokingly by the lead singer with “Switzerland in the rain...” and “Here on a wet Wednesday night”. For the next two hours we laugh, we dance and we jump up and down like teenagers.

 

And then it happens, my favourite song is played. It is played only for me, in a stadium of thousands! As I dance, tears of joy pour from my eyes and mingle with raindrops...

 

“Lovers, keep on the road you're on
Runners, until the race is run
Soldiers, you've got to soldier on
Sometimes even right is wrong

 

They are turning my head out
To see what I'm all about
Keeping my head down
To see what it feels like now
But I have no doubt
One day, we are gonna get out”

 

It is nearly the end. Cloudbursts of multi-coloured confetti, shaped like butterflies, are released into the air above the dancing crowd. 

 

I look up into the frantic sky. Flashes of natural electricity seem to collaborate with strobe lighting and pulsate in the air as the butterflies dance above us. The music and the crowd deafen me, rendering me incapable of coherent thought. I can only feel. 

 

I close my eyes as ice-cold raindrops shower down onto me, saturating my burning face, awakening my senses and cleansing my soul.

 

I am dancing in a kaleidoscope of rainbow-coloured butterflies in the electric rain.

 

I am a once-lost spirit now rediscovered and awoken. 

 

I am ageless. 

 

I am free.

 

(LYRICS BY COLDPLAY “LOVERS IN JAPAN/REIGN OF LOVE”)

Reviews

[Tim H]

As a father of two boy, (now grown men), I remember the the sleep deprived days when the night terrors moved the boys from their room to ours. They claimed green monsters were in their room. After several nights of this I tried to convince them that the green monsters lived in our room and thereby forfeited the father of the year award. I blame it on the sleep deprivation.
This piece tells two very different stories. Currently the story reads like a diary entry and that may be your intent. You might consider breaking them into two separate stories and tell us what or how the sleep issue is resolved and then the story off the concert. You may consider revising this paragraph: I hear another familiar, needy cry from the other bedroom, as her little brother wakes to find himself alone in the space that he normally shares with her and that she has now abandoned in fear; the space that is now punctuated by unfamiliar flashes of bright light and terrifying rumblings that he has never before been conscious enough to witness. It is a run-on sentence and reads a somewhat awkwardly.
I love the description of the clouds and the storm it makes the reader watch in awe along with the subject of the story. The reader is treated to sense of ecstatic awe and joy at the concert. I liked it very much.