We Watched The Rain Fall As Our Palms Faced The Sky


It’s been raining for three days and I can’t stop looking out the window. We haven’t seen the sun, but we don’t need it where we are. A long weekend holding on to each other through the flood because it’s the only thing worth saving. Everything else can be replaced, but these heartbeats we have together is all we need.

The rain will stop and the sun will come. It always does, just as there is always another storm along the skyline. If, for some reason, our ship starts to sink and our sails begin to fail, we can remember what we had before. We can remember there was a time where we worked. Where we let the weather come and stayed safely in our beds.

Once, not long ago, we were driving through Georgetown when the skies opened and the rain dropped down. The rain came fast, hard, a cool downpour onto our hands as we reached them out the windows. We laughed as the pedestrians, the strangers, ran across the street. Souls ran into buildings, some ran out of them. Covering their heads, covering their things. We watched a couple walk out of a store, they didn’t run, they laughed. They looked at each other and opened their hands. They pointed their palms up toward the sky.

There was a time when a grey morning sky convinced our eyes to shut and our limbs to intertwine. It gave us more time to laugh at our messy hair, seeing how ridiculous we could make it. There was a time when we lost power, so we lit candles and tried to draw pictures in the glow. We traced shadows and intention while the city looked eerily alone.

It will be a calm day with clouds on the horizon when our hands fall apart. The safety of one another will be gone and the world will restart again. We paused time once, we were sure of it. The world might have continued, but we were happily lost within the one we created. Nothing would ever be the same. We will emerge on the deck letting the sunlight blind into our eyes. It will be a moment where we are brave and our heads will never look down. Our eyes will stay wide with promise wanting to feel everything we can.

Because it will be the end, but those moments before were what it was all about. It was about two people, lovers, open palms toward the sky letting the droplets fall. We loved but we will never be here again. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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