Rain

I remember kissing you for the very first time in the rain. The droplets clustered on your glasses, but your eyes were closed so it didn't matter that you couldn't see. It started off so sweet, and then it got harder and more violent, just like the storm we were caught in. And your arms wrapped around my waist and my arms wrapped around your neck and we just stood there and kissed until the rain stopped and we were both drenched and we realized that we would be missed if we tarried any longer.

I remember making love to you for the very first time in the rain. You spread your cloak out underneath the drooping willow by the lake and you drew me to you and kissed my lips and then my neck and then my collarbone, working your way lower and lower. And the rain started to fall as you entered me, huge drops splishing against your back as you moved on top of me. And as I moaned and screamed in ecstasy, the thunder rolled across the air and the lightening hit the ground. And when you were finished, we lay curled together and you ran your fingers through my brown curls as the rain drenched our bodies once again.

I remember our wedding in the rain. You looked as nervous as I was, and I forced a smile just for you, even though I wanted nothing more than to cry from nerves. I never thought I'd cry for you then. You said, “I do,” and the rain began to fall and you laughed as water ruined our perfect wedding cake. “It seems everything important happens in the rain, don't you think?” I laughed and agreed and then we were married and I kissed you once again in the rain.

I remember watching you be buried in the rain. I had grown pale and the ebony of my clothes only made it worse. I had promised myself I wouldn't cry when they put you in the ground. I had shed enough tears. But then the rain started and I couldn't help myself. It mingled with my tears and not even I could tell if the saltiness on my tongue was rain or not. And I said goodbye and I wished not for the first time that I could be with you in death, as I always was in life. And I stood there long after everyone else had left - except Ron, of course, but he was sitting in the car, waiting to take me home. I stood there and the rain poured harder than I had ever seen it pour, and my woolen robes grew heavy with water. I was so wet I could hardly breathe, and I still stood there crying, watching the fresh earth over your grave turn into muddy puddles, and I fought the urge to throw myself into that puddle just to be with you. I still fight that urge. I'll never stop.

And people ask me why I hate the rain.