In Bed While It Rains

Kristin and I listened to the rain last night until we fell asleep. The rain began gently, so gentle that you wondered if it was actually raining at all or if that was some other sound, but soon enough the rain picked up and you knew that it was rain against the window and not the wind or somebody taking a shower in the house or anything else other than that sound water makes when it hits the roof and the house and the windows. It is always a beautiful thing to be in bed when it rains, even better to be holding hands and warm. I was all three.


We did not say much because the rain was enough. The sound of it filled the room, even more so when the thunder rumbled. My thoughts drifted as the rain fell and I found myself thinking about the last week at work and how much it had taken out of me and how tired I'd been some nights -- so tired one night that I nearly fell of my bike as I rode home. The week had pushed me, but earlier in the day I deposited almost the exact same amount that I'd owed to the bank a year ago, and I thought that the rain sounds different when you're in love and out of debt. I thought about how I'd walked through the rain last year hoping to find something, and how I still haven't found it all but I've found enough to want to stay inside when it rains. I thought about all the places I could go, all the ways I could play it. The same thoughts as before, though under very different circumstances.


When I awoke, Kristin had left for class and it had stopped raining. I stayed in bed a little longer, hoping that it would start again because it really is a beautiful thing to be in bed when it rains.