To walk in the rain with someone you love. There’s nothing like it, especially in Seattle. You know that soon, you’ll be together and warm inside. And dry. You’ll hear the rain in all its music: on windowpanes, the roof, on the pavement. It’s a reminder that the elements can be appreciated for that they are: the fundamental building blocks of human experience.
Yet, there is another building block to shower us with beauty and pain: that of human relationship. It is, in fact, a ship of sorts: a vehicle of togetherness. And like much of human experience the journey of love requires safe passage. The ship must be sound, waterproof, stable, dry.
Alas, it is the journey itself that will test the Jesus Bolts of every relationship to its deepest girders. Teeth will rattle loose, challenging the greatest of the natural elements for supremacy in the battle to wreak havoc upon the human soul.
But this is not that night. Tonight, we will turn in before an amber woodstove fire and listen to the heart of the rain beat its distrant drum outside, knowing simply that we are together – and dry.