The Rain

Before I ever fell in love, I always thought rain would play a significant role in my love story. I figured I’d have my first kiss on a row boat in the pouring rain (thanks, Nicholas Sparks) or that we’d be in the middle of a huge fight, in the rain, when, in the heat of the moment he’d scream, “YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE! Marry me!” and we’d hug and all would be better again. UnFortunately, neither of those events happened. I seemed to forget that it “rains” exactly 2 times per year in San Diego and that when we San Diegans say “rain”, we mean “mist”.

Now that I think of it, I don’t even know that we’ve kissed in the rain mist.

*Stops typing and adds “make-out in the rain” to bucket list.* 

Our rainy days have looked a lot less like a Nicholas Sparks novel and a lot more like this morning:

I wake up to the sound of our blinds tapping on our window because the wind is strong. If I quiet my breathing and listen, I can hear tiny raindrops hitting the glass and today, it makes me happy. The sleepiest puppy has worked her way from the bottom of the bed to a little nook between Jacob and I, half covered by our fluffy duvet. I snuggle  just a little bit longer because there’s no sun and I hope that means it’s still too early to get up. When I finally work up the energy to look at my clock, it’s 7:10, time to get up. Fridays are coffee days so I put on my biggest, fuzziest grey sweater and moccasins and ask Jacob if I should wear boots instead. He looks out the window and says he thinks I’ll be fine. When we get back from coffee, he turns on a rainy day playlist he found on Spotify while I turn on the electric blanket for Molly Mae. I find myself unable to leave the cozy girl, who has now snuggled up on my lap. In my head I sing my favorite rainy day song,

“It’s raining. It’s pouring. Moozle is snoring.”

And it’s true. She is snoring. And Jacob is working. And I’m feeling thankful.

It’s not exactly the passionate run towards each other in the pouring rain that Nicholas made me think it would be, but somehow, it’s better. It’s real. It’s love. And it’s ours.

(Plus, I’m warm instead of soaking wet and I don’t have mascara running down my face… So that’s awesome.)

***For more of our Little Love Stories, click here.***

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