Thunder rumbled like a first dry sob. The clouds were sodden and convex, ominous like the first frown and quiver of the eyebrows. And then it started, as always, with one drop.
It plummeted from the sky, landing in the leaves of a tree. The first leaf drooped beneath its weight, passing it to the next. It depressed the next leaf and slid onto a twig, down its thin form, into the waiting hand of another leaf that passed it to the next. Finally it slipped from the tree to fall to earth.
Like the leaves of the tree I gently removed the first tear from my face and regarded it. Like the first raindrop that was now being joined by a legion of its kin, this tear was only the first of many. Yet it was the most important. It was the leader, the scout who forged the path for the others that began tumbling down my face. I trembled. My chest heaved with another sob.
The first tear was the emotional breakdown that finally opened the clouds and released the downpour. The sky sobbed with thunder and wept with rain, putting its cold, wet arms around my shoulders as I sat on the bench, watching the tall men with their drenched shirts clinging to their rippling muscles unlade the moving van, concealing each haul beneath a tarp.
I thought of the house I had left behind, but not for long. I thought of the familiar sites in the town of my previous residence, but those, too, meant little. They were places. Even friends I had known there were not the source of my sorrow. It was the friend I had lost for whom I lamented.
The best friend I had ever had. She whose eyes were more radiant than stars. She whose smile was brighter than the sun. She whose tears were more beautiful than the rain. She whose laughter had rung more dulcet than birdsong. She who had been my closest and dearest companion for longer than I could remember.
And I wept. I wept over the happy memories and the memories that would never be made. I wept over the conversations we had shared years ago and so often since. I wept over the games of our youth and the courtship of recent times. I wept over the laughter, the clasped hands, the touching lips. And the sky wept with me.
The clouds' tears mingled with mine until I was soaked to the skin, and still I sat there and wept bitterly for the love I could not help but wonder if I would ever see again. I did not want to give up; but was the proverb re long-distance relationships true?
Suddenly the rain lightened. The thunder grew quieter. When I looked up at the sky through bleary eyes, I saw light. Sunshine glowed through an interstice in the clouds, illuminating the gray land with its rays and unfurling a rainbow across the sky.
I felt it warm my whole body. It was a ray of hope suddenly casting its glow on a dreary world. Everything seemed, logically, much brighter. My heart lifted. I would see her again--because I would not give up. It was as simple as that.
And I smiled. I smiled over the memories that would yet be made. I smiled in anticipation of my next exchange with her, of the laughter it would bring. I smiled with the ardor of my heart for the girl I saw behind my drawn eyelids. And the sky smiled with me. Though we were encompassed by clouds, for this moment we were blissful.
"Hey there, boy," called one of the movers, who ostensively had not noticed me prior, "aren't you gonna retreat? The storm's not over yet."
I beamed. "No," I agreed, "it's not over yet."
Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith
Edited by Nuile: The Daft Wordbender, Jul 05 2012 - 09:17 PM.