Daily Journal Journey #59: weathering the storm

We lay on the bedroom floor in our underwear, our skin sticking to the faux wood panels. Sweat tricked down my back, across my sides and over my hips, through my hair. The fan blew on us but did little to alleviate the heat drawing every last drop of water from our bodies. And so, we lay there, unmoving, silent and waiting. Waiting for rain. We’d seen the clouds building on the horizon and beginning to creep down the mountains toward town. We could feel the storm in the stillness of the heavy air, as if it were already laden with cool drops.

“You ok, babe?” my husband whispered.

“Fine,” I whispered.

“You seem not ok.”

I shrugged slightly and continued to stare at the ceiling.

“All of this will pass,” he said. “We all just need time to cool down.”

Tempers had flared, anger burning hot under the relentless sun. And all over something so silly, so trivial. The should haves and shouldn’t haves bobbed in the murk of arguments filling my head.

A bead of sweat slide down my spine. The screen on the veranda window grumbled sluggishly, allowing a faint wind to drift through. I turned my face toward the veranda door, watching the clouds crawl ever closer. Another drop of sweat slipped down the slide of my backbone. Though I felt as if I were dissolving into nothing but sweat, my body was tight, hard, on the defensive. It was unwilling and unable to move, a stone frozen in place, but my mind skipped from place to place, each jump weighing heavily on my heart.

All of this was so stupid. Too much finger pointing. Too much said with the aim to hurt, friend to friend. Too much confrontation. Not enough communication. I could rationalize it all I wanted, but my anger was still burning.

Another wisp of wind snuck inside, brushing against my face. The storm was almost here, the breeze seemed to promise. I looked over at my husband. His eyes were closed, his lips parted slightly. Always the calm one, always able to weather any storm, any heat, any rain.

I closed my eyes, hoping to set it my mind to rest, but it continued to fly through the clouds of emotion, dipping every so often into the pond of arguments before spraying it in drops across the forest of reason.

And then, I heard it. The quiet ping of a water drop onΒ  the metal roof.

Another.

Another and another.

I opened my eyes, waiting for the coolness. It came gently at first, whispers of relief. Then the wind pushed through the screen, rustling the photos taped to the wall and humming through the fan. I sat up, watching the clouds open up outside the window. Great streams of water fell from the clouds, draining the air of its heaviness. My husband sat up, alert, as the sound of water filled the apartment, our room, my body. My skin cooled. My mind slowed down and stopped. My body let go.

I knew that there was only one thing left to say now.

Rain fell on my face, mixing with the sweat, and I lay back down.

I’m sorry.

 

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