The touch of your skin, for one.
The humidity of the night.
The sweat caught between the fold in the back of my knee and warmth of your thigh.
The tangle of arms and legs and miscellaneous us.
When we woke, we could feel the change in the air.
The promise of cool and the sweet smell of moisture.
As I motioned to grab something to cover up with, your hand stopped mine.
Our fingers intertwined and you motioned toward the ladder.
We scrambled down from the loft.
The wind was stronger outside.
The sky swirled black and grey.
A rumble of thunder shook the bare souls of our feet.
The tickle of grass between my toes.
A flicker of lightning in the distance.
We could feel the storm coming.
The warmth of your arms wrapped around me from behind.
Your head laid atop my own.
The clouds, the rains, the storm. ..
The first soft droplets of precipitation on my arms.
Thin sporadic tears.
On my legs. My bare belly.
Then harder, faster, fatter.
The wet, the warm and the cool all at the same time.
My hair clinging to my face.
Your laugh ringing in my ears.
Your laugh shaking my body with yours.
And we waited in the rain.
Until it felt as if our skin was soaked through and through.
Until we ran laughing for the shelter of the shed.
My Body Remembers.