August 21, 2018

My dearest,

The rains have arrived. It’s August. We learn to expect them.

Sometimes we can’t escape the downpour. We get caught without an umbrella. Your blue suede shoes (really a deep indigo, but you insist they’re blue) get soaked. I catch a chill and sneeze, and you worry about me.

We remember walking in the rain, through a park, many years ago, on our first anniversary, shoulders pressed against each other, my arm around your waist, pulling you close. Isn’t this just like a scene from a movie, I asked. You told me to hurry up; you were getting wet. Years pass, and on another rainy day, you turned to me and told me, this was rather romantic after all.

The rainy days come and go. But here we are, together, as before. We’ve earned this pace, this slow walk while raindrops fall around us.

Yours, ever and always.