I can see her now the way she was. To be clear, I can see us…and the way that we were. I recall, often, a day in the rain when we felt neither cold, nor wet, oblivious to the rain. We were in a state of reverie, of exultation. The expression of our youth and love for life and each other that involved various ways of shutting out the greater world as if it did not exist, or perhaps that it only existed for us and, since we were too busy with each other the world can just take a flying fuck until such time as we might need it.

In this vision she is dancing across the park in the spring rain, arms outstretched, eyes raised to the heavens, twirling and laughing as if there were no place on earth she would rather be and nothing else she could possibly imagine could bring her so much joy. Of course, I followed after, knowing with all of me that there was no place on earth I would rather be and nothing whatsoever that I would rather be doing. We were young, of course, and in love. A powerful combination of drugs, this. I can remember the shape of her legs. The way that her perfect hamstrings joined the back of her knee where the most amazing calves were formed and stretched towards her graceful ankles. Her perfect skin. The way that she ran and danced on the balls of her feet, pirouetting through the rain as if she were weightless. So graceful. She was so beautiful. In all the ways that a young man wishes a woman to be. Amazingly graceful and yet wholly unaware of just how remarkable she was. I was hypnotized. Helpless. I chased her through the rain, a great prize to be had, I imagined, but also unaware of my youth and just how vital and vibrant I was. I remember kissing her. I remember how she responded when my arm encircled her. I remember the way that she completely surrendered to me. With my hand in the small of her back and our lips pressed together the moment that she gave in and let me be her sole means of support. I remember those times well.

Half a lifetime has passed, now, and life is somewhat more complicated. We are happy, but we are not the same vital, passionate, carefree children we were then. I am standing on the sidewalk under the awning of the office building in which I work dreading the five-yard-sprint from the door to a waiting taxicab. It is raining like the falls of heaven and it has been a long day. I find myself steeling my body against the rain and wanting desperately to stay dry, pulling my collar up against the weather and starting to wave for a cab when I have this vision. I still love her. I think I love her even more today than I did on that day but on that day we were invincible. Careless. Innocent…waterproof. I decided to forego the cab ride and walk to the metro. If you stop wincing against the rain it becomes quite peaceful. The sound drowns out, pun intended, the unwanted harshness of the city. I walk casually, as if it were any other day, to the station then catch the train. I sit, dripping, on the train still lost in a dream, smiling to myself as I remember that moment over and over. The sound of her laughter. The feel of her fingertips on my face. The way that her nose wrinkled as we brought our faces together. The touch of her lips and her tongue. Her breath in my mouth. The rain and its privacy. Powerful, indelible memory.

I leave the train close to home and again I decide against a cab and walk out into the rain with disregard. Strolling the last few blocks among the brownstones I find that I am still smiling. Life is much more complicated than it was then, but full. We have children, careers, a mortgage, investments. There is life insurance, health insurance, homeowners insurance, underinsurance insurance. College tuition accounts, soccer games, school plays, teenage drama, but it is all ours.

I turn onto the stoop and spring up the steps to our front door. I open the door and step into the foyer, with it’s various shoes, boots, sandals and book bags. Colorful jackets hang on hooks, all glistening with raindrops. I take off my raincoat and give it a shake and hang it on a hook. I loosen my tie and slip off my shoes. She comes around the corner, smiling. She is also soaked from head to toe.

“The kids and I walked home from the library in the rain”, She said smiling “Looks like you had the same idea”

“I did”, I said, finding it hard to keep the immense smile on my face from splitting my enormous head in two, “I was going to catch a cab, but then I thought, what the heck.”

She cocked her head and came to me. Just like long ago my arm slips around her and my hand finds the small of her back. She looks up at me as I pull her in. Her wrists encircle my neck and she looks into my eyes. We kiss. I feel her give herself to me and I hold her up. When the kiss is over we stay close, her eyes and fingers reading the story on my face. More smiling. She reaches up with her hand and tosses my hair.

“You are soaked to the skin”, she smiles, her nose wrinkling in a way that sends my brain on a long trip.

“Ahhh. It’s nothing”, I said and with a smile add, “I’m waterproof!”

She smiles wider and rubs her wet nose against mine. Again we kiss as I hold her up…her sole means of support. The children begin to find us, one after the other. Each one jumping up with excitement having had a spirited afternoon reading stories of far away places. Skipping home in the rain with their mother, a most enchanting creature. Splashing in puddles and making up rhymes. We all sort of dance around the mud room as we say our hellos and try to balance our attentions to everyone’s stories and anecdotes. Me, trying to get my tie off and shirt unbuttoned. We are all, every one of us, enthralled with this thing that is happening.

“To your rooms”, She says with authority, “Go and get dry before you catch cold!”

They run, here and there to their rooms. Dinner will follow shortly and, like me, I am sure they are all hungry. The foyer is quiet once again. She begins to walk off and I hold on to her hand and pull her back for one last kiss. Again, her nose wrinkles. Again, I am in love. Aren’t we fortunate…

…and waterproof.