Rain [mark]

It rained today; I love the rain. I have been in Calgary for two and a half months and this is the first actual rain that has fallen. We have had huge blizzards of snow and ice; we have had sleet and freezing rain. But this, this is a warm spring rain. The kind of rain that you can smell on the breeze as it saturates the asphalt. I stood outside the store Karen and I were walking into; for just a moment we were alone, we held hands as I looked up into the misty drips. I opened my mouth to absorb as much of the rain as possible.

I have many memories of rain; my favorites are the ones in the warm spring or summer rains of the Pacific Northwest. I remember with joy my brothers, sister and my sister’s friend who is now my sister-in-law pouring out of the house into the street lamp lit intersection, getting drenched immediately with a blanket of warm wetness. There are, however, also memories of pain.

Rain fell briskly covering the cold pavement outside my window as the weight of my discontent rested on my chest, phone still clenched in my hand. Two weeks stood like a stalwart sentry between myself and matrimony. The dream crumbled; by the time I reached my car it had all but dissolved. A restless discomfort furrowed grooves into the once stable soil of my future. I looked up into the dark sky, feeling each pearl of moisture soak into my skin and flow around my cheek and down my neck; all feeling disappeared.

Over the next few months, acres of intention would be tilled and churned until none of what I thought I had remained. Walking to my desk at work felt like I was six feet under water, I scarcely breathed for fear that I would drown. Faces of only sorrow were turned to me and all happiness hid in fear. The field was churned, weeded and toiled.

Our first meeting had been carefree with laughter and singing in the summer; we met again, fear on our sleeves, trembling with uncertainty we poured out our hearts and drew in close for an embrace. Love stirred to the surface with hope and understanding; what was once important slipped away and with tears we kissed. I felt the saline pearl grow on the edge of my eyelid. I felt it flow around my cheek and down my neck. I felt.

Outside the window, behind the house, the schoolyard is wet and empty. The pavement glistens in the elemental gloom reflecting the dark skies above. Soon children will pour from their classes and splash in the pools and the mud in sopping freedom, cheering a rainy day with their carefree yelps and flailing, uncoordinated arms and legs. I check and re-check the countdown of our engagement.

As much as I pray that it will not rain on our wedding day, I long for the poetic rush of sweet summer rain filling my shoes and flooding my tuxedo. Holding her hand I would look up into the misty drips, open my mouth and imagine God, in all His glory, pouring out His glass and smiling on me and my bride.