A walk in the rain

February 25, 2015 § 12 Comments

Dearest.

You know that I grew up in a coastal town. And I think I’ve told you that we went to the beach in our winter holidays. It was never far, just slightly out of town, but far enough away from home to feel like we’d gone somewhere.

Our holidays weren’t about sunblock and sunburn and sunbathing. They were all gun-metal skies, gritty beaches, rounded rusty rocks, and chilly rock pools where a keen eye could find a pumpkin shell perfectly poised between the pebbles.

But it’s the beach walks I remember the most: long wild walks in the seasonal drizzle of a winter’s day. My black school raincoat with the hood tied securely under my chin. The whipping of the wind around my ankles. The cold at the end of my nose. The wet, wine-red colour of my cheeks. Running through freezing foam despite the wintry weather.

I long to do that walk with you. You don’t need to speak; the wind would carry your words away and the rain would wash mine from my tongue.

I don’t need words.

I need that vast emptiness, and the glowering sky. I need the crinkle of your eyes, your gentle smile. I need your hand and your heart.

I need a walk in the rain … with you.

 

* This blog is the second post in a ‘two bloggers, one topic’ challenge devised by Dave Luis and me. We had the same topic and published at the same time, without seeing each other’s posts. You can see what Dave wrote about this topic at http://www.bloggsymalone.wordpress.com.

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