The thunder ran through the house like a hyper-active two-year old.

Only Geoff didn’t like hyper-active two year olds. Ever since little Jimmy ran into the table and knocked over his birthday cake. It might be petty, but it wasn’t everyday you turned 60.

“But he’s only young, and he’s so cute” they said. The whole family had deserted to the side of a child who didn’t even eat his sandwich crusts.

“Let him contribute to society. Let him work every hour god gives him, man and boy, and then I’ll let him do as he pleases.”

It was funny how the thunder seemed to remind him of things. It was funny how anything seemed to remind him of things. Today it made sense to be reminded though, even if he didn’t want to. He closed the curtains to block out the rain, but the noise carried on doing as it pleased. Just as little Jimmy would have done if he were here.

He returned to the table and blew out the candle. It wasn’t every day you turn 70 either, and he couldn’t help think that something was missing . . .