The clear sky began to cloud up, sunlight slipping underneath the clouds, illuminating the grass and trees with a green haze that appealed to me and yet urged my planted feet to run for cover. A slight breeze blew across my face while leaves on nearby trees turned to reveal their lighter, duller undersides. A few daisies twitched and swayed. All still seemed peaceful.


I think I would love to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have your children and make our home together. And yet, you have not asked the same from me. I am left to wonder…


Before long, the wind started to pick up and it wrapped itself around my heart, making it feel cold and wispy. I felt it fluttering inside me as I gazed at the green intensity of the sky. Now instead of brilliant sunshine, the light felt heavy and ominous. I saw people going about their usual business, as if nothing were happening. Instinct told me that I should do the opposite. Instinct told me I should run away.


When I kiss you, you turn your head and squeeze your eyes closed. I start to wonder what it is I am hoping for. Have I asked too much? Have I seen too little?


I shut the front door behind me and found my way to the basement. I flipped on the TV but only found static. I stood on the very tips of my tippy toes in order to see out the small rectangular window near the ceiling. I wished desperately to know what was going to happen. Fearing danger, I ran up the stairs to retrieve the radio, an ancient thing that I thought I’d thrown away 20 years ago. Back in the safety of my basement, I plugged it in and found it still worked.


A word, a nod, any signal would be sufficient to know what you are thinking, what you are feeling. I feel isolated beside you; though our fingers touch and twine, our eyes never meet.


Warnings were everywhere but for what felt like hours I stood and saw nothing. My brother, whom I realized had been there with me all along, was convinced that it was just a false alarm and wanted to go back upstairs. I urged him to stay, and though he didn’t want to, he did. We looked out the window, waiting. The sky kept growing darker and grayer and the wind whipped across the yard, pressing the grass flat to the ground, and yet still nothing was happening. Nothing on the horizon.


Yes, I am angry. I am bewildered. I know you love me. You have shown me so on so many occasions. But you have deserted me when I was vulnerable. Where do you go in those times?


And then, there it was. Swirling, dark and grey, and huge. It gobbled up houses across the street. I watched it devour my neighbor’s yard and move on down the road, kicking up debris. I felt the walls shake, heard glass breaking upstairs. I knew I should move away from the window, but couldn’t bear not to look. It was immense and I could feel its power, its strength inside of me.


What if it were all to end tomorrow? I fear my life would come crashing down around me and I would have nowhere to go. Undoubtedly, I love you, but I need your love in return, and how can that truly be what we call love?


As quickly as it arrived, it vanished. The ground was wet, as though it had rained, but I knew it was the perspiration of the heavens coming to rest on the leaves and the grass that were mashed with the footprint of the storm. The sun came out much more quickly than it had faded, and the irony was not lost as the crispness of the colors seemed to click on all at once, clinging to the devastation around me. As I viewed the scene from my front porch, a dog wandered down the street and I rescued her from the harshness of reality’s light.


I wake and whisper into your ear as you sleep, “I love you for always. I want you to know that.” And I truly mean it. We’ll weather the storms. Together.


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