Raining

It was raining as we got out of the car and ran to the door of the hotel room, our bags across our shoulders. She laughed and made comment that she was going to melt. I smiled and let us into the fresh smelling room. It was the beginning of an amazingly perfect day, evening and morning that was this morning.

We had spent a few minutes at my house, before we left for the hotel, looking at old photos of me when I was a child. She laughed and told me how cute I was. I made sure that she would show me pictures of her someday. Then we made the drive, in the rain, the windows of the car foggy with our breath. We were smiling, holding hands in the car.

Once we were in the room, we inspected. It wasn't large, though the bed was king sized. It wasn't beautiful, it was perfect. It meant just us. It meant so many things in my mind, in my heart, that I shivered, whether from cold or from my mind i'm unsure. I lay on the bed, jokingly "testing" it for it's comfort level. We didn't leave the room or the bed right away, even though we were both hungry. We were hungrier for each other.

Then out into the rain, to dinner. I carried her across a river that had formed where part of the sidewalk had been. She laughed the entire time. We both looked like we had taken another shower when we entered the restaurant. We waited for a seat talking about traveling.

Dinner was divine. Whether it was the company or the meal or the atmosphere or the sound of rain beating against the windows, I was content. Sitting across from her, lost in her gaze one moment, examining her beautiful features the next, always trying to remember to eat, to chew, to swallow.

The rest of the evening was a beautiful blur of wine and conversation and laughter and love and passion and fun. It was an evening that I have never experienced. The rain poured out of the sky, even as we climbed into the shower together and she washed my hair and we kissed under the hot water. It was raining outside, and it was raining inside and our lips drank of each other as much as they drank of the wine.

Then pillow talk, and sleep and waking up in early morning to roll over and watch her, laying there, fitfully resting beside me. She doesn't sleep well in strange places. Neither do I. Still, in her fitfullness she was beautiful. And then I woke her with kisses and soft words and we showered and had breakfast and drove home in a daze. A daze of perfection. I'm still there, with her face in my mind and smiling uncontrollably.

And even now, I know in my soul, that we've only just begun.