There were no words. Not at first. There didn’t need to be. The steady patter of rain and the faint rumble of thunder said it all. Filled the silence and healed what scorching heat had zinged. Bare feet in wet grass. The babble of water collecting in small streams, chasing merrily over street and stone, washing away dust and debris.
You took me with you, and together we listened to the voices that spoke for us. The voices that spoke to us. Without words. Because nothing that needed to be said needed words to pass between us. Just rain and the simple, childlike joy of kicking up puddles while the world restored itself.
It was enough.
It was perfect.
We shared the rain.