It was late, I knew that much, I'd been awoken from a deep sleep by something, a sound? I rolled over on to my side and leaned forward toward the clock, seeking it's face to gain a point of reference for where in the night I was. The familiar dim red numbers we no where to be found, had I knocked the clock off the small table beside the bed? I groped around and felt the hard plastic edges of its case. No, the power was off. A low rumble rolled through the room, thunder in the distance. I lay back and looked up at the ceiling planks just barely visible in the dim blue light of the moon. I waited and listened, the wind had picked up, driven before the distant storm. It whispered like a gentle voice. The storms which visited across the vast open plains behind my home were welcomed, refreshing and always left the air with a fresh clean smell.
Since sleep felt distant and unattainable I rose from the bed and slowly made my way down the stairs to the large open room below that served as living room, dining room and kitchen. The cabin was simple like that, and perhaps that's why I like it so much, it fit me. I treaded barefoot to the front door unlatched it and walked out on the small porch out front. In the far corner my old worn white washed Adirondak chair seemed to glow a light blue as the full strength of the moon's light struck it. It had to be early morning. Another, louder rumble shook the porch and I glance to the distant hills just in time to see a flash of lightning. I slid into the chair and propped my feet up on the porch railing and watched the storm's approach. A gust of cool wind whipped my hair down into my eyes and I shivered. A lot had been going on lately, my work in the city seemed to pass in a blur. Fridays rolled around like clockwork and I usually made it up to the cabin by nightfall. Saturdays I clean up, cut the grass close in and check the fences. Simple rewarding low tech chores that helped me balance the week's desk work. This was my fitness program, my gym, by Sunday afternoons when I left the muscles in my shoulders and thighs ached but I always felt renewed.
My thoughts we interrupted by the sound of the door latch opening. Startled I turned, it took a moment for my mind to register that I was seeing you, coming out of my house. I had talked about the cabin to you at work off and on for a couple of weeks. It was not some ploy, some way to get you out here alone with me. When I first mentioned it to you I could see that sparkle in your eye that suggested that the whole cabin "thing" resonated with you. You understood and appreciated what it represented to me. Thursday you had asked me if I ever brought anyone along. I knew then you wanted to go. Sure, pack a small bag, but be prepared to work, I smiled.
Quietly you move over beside me sitting on the plank floor beside the chair, looking out into the darkness and listening to the storm. I feel self conscious sitting in the chair with you on the floor and, having no other chair to offer you I slip my feet off the rail and slide out of the chair and join you.
We're quiet, watching the storm approach, the wind buffeting the grass on the lawn in front of the porch. Somehow speaking doesn't seem the thing to do. I glance over at you and see you enthralled, gazing beyond me. It was like that for me the first time I witness the rains coming in. The wind is whipping your hair about your face and I follow the line of your jaw from your ears to your lips. I see you shiver a bit and I slide closer and put my arm around you. I can't help but notice the gently slope of your shoulder blades beneath your bathrobe. Your head turns toward me and you gaze into my face with the same expression I saw you looking upon the storm. It's as though you are discovering something new, something you are just beginning to understand. I look back, meeting your gaze squarely. Another gust of wind drives you to the shelter of my arms and you nestle yourself closer.
