Letters Between Sundays

You know those mornings when you wake up and it’s darker than usual in your apartment? Outside is gray. The sun isn’t shining through your blinds, casting a shimmering bliss onto your walls. Clouds fill the air, and you hear the rumbling sound of thunder in the distance.

You know what’s coming—the gush of wind pressing against your windows and the heavy raindrops hitting your ceiling. But the thing the clouds don’t tell you is what kind of storm it’s going to be.

When I was a little girl, I was afraid of the thunder and the way the lightning lit up the city for two seconds. I would be so scared that my eyes created a rainstorm of their own.

As I got older, I found peace with the rain. No more shaking under the sheets or crying myself to sleep.

But with you, I see the beauty in the rainstorms.

Watching the sky turn from ocean blue into the darkness of the world. Standing on the porch, listening to the rain hit the pavement as we both smile. Even though we lose power inside the apartment, we still have light from each other.

The romantic feeling of lighting candles in the corners of nothingness.

The nights when the storm would wake us from the shattering sound of thunder, feeling the coldness in the air from the water droplets outside. You showed me there was still warmth underneath the cold. You were my sheet—the one I covered myself with to protect me from the wickedness.

The slow mornings of waking up to the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof, making our morning ritual feel more sincere and valued.

Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes.

Feeling the drops of water on your delicate skin when we’re gloomy ourselves brings comfort and peace. It makes you appreciate the rain. Standing outside in front of each other, not knowing what we’re doing, and somehow the rain pulls us back to each other.

After the storm comes more beauty.

The sun peeking through the clouds and onto the wet grass, making it look like there are diamonds scattered across the field. Feeling the sun’s rays on your skin, a wave of warmth covering your body. The rainbow that casts itself through the clouds, making you feel like a child again, wanting to go chase it.

Even rainstorms have beauty in them.