Chasing the rain

His was a face I kissed one last time 3 years ago. He was 2 at the time. His little arms were wrapped around me, his surprised eyes looking lovingly into mine. He kept touching my face and saying it was raining on my cheeks. He did not know where the “rain” had come from. It had never rained before. He was young, beautiful and he held my entire world in the palm of his little hands. I had never cried openly while I had him in my arms.

This was my last memory of him. The last time I held him. The last time I kissed his cheeks and said goodbye.

It has not rained in 3 years. Upon my Lebanon departure, the rain suddenly disappeared. It took away every last feeling, every last desire, there was nothing left.

There was only forced acceptance and total surrender. There was an overall numbness that made functioning easy. A kind of passing that made living possible.

For 3 years, the sky was pale blue. All memories of him were faded, dormant, frozen.

Today, the sky was unusually grey. The man I love pulled me towards him in the street. He wrapped his arms around me. His surprised eyes looked lovingly into mine as he held me. He wanted me to stand in the rain. Despite all my fears, all my objections, I simply did. I had given him my everything and an unspoken right to tie me to him. And he’d made me stand in the rain. Open. Hopeful. Scared. The sky came falling down on me. In abundance. All the walls came crumbling down. I knew we had ended.

I was making my way back to Lebanon to the now 5 year old boy whose heart kept mine beating throughout the toughest of droughts. Everything was going to be fine, the heavens had opened at last and there I was; alive again and standing in the rain.