He Is My Sky

The sky has been heavy for days, pushing down on the top of my head, pressing against my eyes, holding me inside myself. How much does it weigh? As much as two hearts.

He told me he could smell autumn. I told him I could smell rain. But he is where the fall comes easily, no stopping it, even if one wanted to. But here the rain only threatens. Promises. And never falls.

I always watch the sky. Something bigger than me, he said. That is what I want, he said.
...something bigger than me...but the rain has been holding back. I’ve been watching the clouds roll past for too long. And only yesterday they stopped rolling. Today they sit, thick and heavy, going nowhere like the shirt of a tired man who has dropped it to the floor before lying down to sleep. Today I learned that the sky weighs five million billion tons. And today the clouds have made good on their prolonged promise and have begun to drop hours of rain.

I laid outside and listened to it hit the leaves of the trees, the pebbles on the road, the grass on the ground. I saw it coat my skin and make it slick and shiny. I smelled the sky. It smells like open. I have never wondered what open smells like because I have always known. Open smells like blood. Sunshine. Fear. Fresh raspberries. Rivers. Open smells like rain.

And as I laid there hearing and smelling this rain that had finally come down, he joined me. He always comes to me in moments like these. I can attempt to keep him further from me at other times. Sometimes. But he is very strong. He will not allow me to do that for long. And like I have wanted this rain to fall, I also want him to never allow me to truly stop him. Though I feel that I may always try. I watch the clouds and understand, he is my sky.