August 30 - Rainy Afternoon

It’s raining. I can see the rain splashing down my window, forming a curtain of water that blurs the shape of the street outside. The road seems to pour sinuously down the hill, and each of the streetlights casts its own warm halo. The sky outside is an unrelieved gray, lit from behind by the flickering of lightning. Thunder rumbles near continuously. Occasionally, a cold wind batters at my window, shaking the panes and squeezing through every small gap with a high pitched whine. My skin breaks out in bumps wherever the gust touches me, and I shiver until it dies again.

 I see a little boy outside, splashing puddles in oversized yellow gumboots. Before long he is scooped up by a long limbed woman clutching a tiny umbrella in one hand, and is carried cackling home, no doubt to big fluffy towels and hot chocolate in front of the fire. A young woman splashes hurriedly past, soaked to the skin and holding a sad and sodden newspaper ineffectually over her head. I see cars go by as well, but they are not as interesting as the people, safe perhaps for the magnitude of their splashes. But though many pass by my window, they are only of passing interest. One face in particular I watch for, one particular way of walking. I’m waiting for you.

When I first see you I will rush to the bathroom to check my face in the mirror and snag a towel off the shelf. Then I’ll run to the front door and throw it wide, stepping out onto the veranda. I’ll wait until I know you’re looking, and then give the biggest smile I can muster, just for you. When you pass through the gate I will sing to you in greeting, and when you reach my door I will throw both the towel and my arms around you. I’ll take your hand and we’ll shut the door on the rain outside. You’ll sit down at the head of the table and I’ll feed you hot chocolate and biscuits. We’ll talk for ages, about lots of things, and about nothing. After that we’ll put on our aprons and start preparing dinner. You’re good at cutting up things, so I’ll let you do that while I fetch things to and from the fridge and stir all the pots and pans. We make a pretty good team. 

After dinner you’ll have a cup of tea, and I’ll have some warm milk because tea tends to keep me up. Then we’ll probably play a board game, just to pass the time. You’ll probably be the one to start yawning first, but regardless we’ll both floss and brush in front of the bathroom mirror. Sometimes you make me laugh so hard I get toothpaste up my nose. We’ll read for a while, because we always do. Then you’ll tuck the blankets in nice and snug around me, and give me a kiss right between the eyes. You’ll tell me to sleep well, and that you love me a lot, and I’ll tell you that I love you too.