The Rains of Springtime

I never told you this before, but you will no doubt remember it well. Remember that day at the park? Yes, the spring, the rain, the wet shoes. I told you then that it was to get out of the apartment and see the azaleas. And, it was, though not entirely.

What I never told you, until now, is that I had been to the park many times before. You remember the old black bench there? Yes, that one. Well, on my strolls through the park every afternoon before you came home from the store, I used to see an old couple sitting on the bench together. Sometimes, he'd be reading the paper. Sometimes, she would be knitting. A sweater for one of her grandchildren, or great-grandchildren, I imagined.

We came to know each other in this chance way. Myself, playing the young man, striding briskly through the park off to carry out the day. They were the audience, sharing another afternoon together, talking, holding hands, listening to the birds and frogs. I suppose they may have waited, sitting on that bench, until sunset. Waited for the skies to turn cherry red and tangerine with the pink cotton candy clouds majestically sailing past overhead.

So, you see, my dear, it was no accident or random chance that day. I had planned it for some time. I never knew why, but the elderly couple simply disappeared one day, unexpectedly. I never did see them again. Maybe they got sick or had to move away.

The idea didn't come to me at once, but I knew it was perfect. So, that is why I asked you to come walk with me in the park that day. The rains of springtime tried to dampen my spirits, soaking us both. But, I still say that you never looked more beautiful than that day, when we were both dripping wet, your dark hair clinging to your smiling, laughing face. My heart raced with joy when you pointed to the rainbow, for I knew it was meant to be. So, now you know why it was that I proposed to you there. It was our turn.

(360 words)