it’s like for just one minute everything’s ok.

it was a chore to move in, you know. took us all of five minutes to pack our belongings, a bottle of wine and a big blanket. we were sure that was all we needed for awhile. we started to set up house. the place was spacious, the walls so wide they were practically non-existent.  we didn’t have a chandelier, so we hung some stars and sat under their light with our wine. we were very young, and thunder in the distance seemed like mood music. maybe it was, but we read it all wrong. we always thought it promised rain (and it did), but it came sooner than we thought. it came before we were ready.

and then, suddenly, it flooded. we were still sitting at dinner, or lying on our backs really, having just finished, under the soft light of our chandelier. the wine bottle was empty, and i was drowsy, holding his hand. tipsy from the bliss of it, not the wine, i would have stayed with him all night. he made me laugh, and i was thinking that i would stay all my life, that he and i could just stay. lightning flashed, or cracked. whatever happened, it split the night in two. the air felt seared. immediately, we were drenched, soaking wet, and he hadn’t even gotten to kiss me.

i had always promised him i would teach him to dance (and he said he’d teach me to drive his old truck). if it had been a movie, we would have done one of the two in the sudden downpour. instead, i rolled over, and looked out the window, and it was still raining, three years later.