i love the rain

Rolling thunder rattled the window pane, preceding only by seconds the sound of the falling rain. From where I sat at the desk I could see the rain landing on the window sill, the wind billowing the curtains. I really should get up and shut it but instead I half close my eyes remembering the last time you held me close in the falling rain. It had been a warm March evening and we had taken the hilly path behind the house. Rain had been expected but we didn’t mind. We had wound our way up to the top of Beacon’s Hill and watched as the sun slid its way down behind the trees of the horizon line, dark ominuous clouds behind us turning faintly pink.
We had started down the hill and suddenly the skies opened up and the thunder rumbled somewhere off in the distance. You held me close under the budding maples and then we ran laughing the rest of the way.
Later that evening you lit a fire and we drank our coffee and watched the flames, whispering I love you’s until we both fell asleep right there on the floor in the living room. Of course the next morning we were both sore and tired and complaining about old bones, but I wished for rain the rest of the day so we could do it again.