We got married under a little overhang out in the rain. There was the man presiding, her, and me. The canvas material is only big enough to provide protection for the three of us.
We had planned on it not raining. We had chairs set up, out in the middle of this big field that my grandfather owned before he passed away. After he passed away, I bought it from my aunt. It is wide and recently mowed, the cows off in another part of the land, under trees, waiting the rain off.
Our family, both sides of it, had taken the chairs away. They sat in their cars, pulled as close as possible, people crowded into SUVs and station wagons, windows rolled down, but not being able to hear over the rain.
It was heavy. Dark and gray and perfect.
I heard an engine or two idling.
She left me once, a long time ago. Left me because she wasn't ready, and I wasn't ready. She left me when it was raining. Grabbing my jacket before I got in my car, pulled me into the last hug I thought I'd ever get from her. I could tell she was crying. The rain started coming down. I thought about how appropriate it was, how perfect and stupid that I was stuck in the rain saying goodbye to the only girl I'd ever looked at and knew, instantly, the ring I would buy her.
She walked back into her house, I got into my car. Drove away.
I had loved the rain. Loved staying up nights, holding her, talking, listening to the way the rain hit the aluminum trash cans outside our bedroom window. I loved the puddles, jumping in them, holding an umbrella for her.
Now. It was raining. She was there. She was there. Everything kind of faded out, except for that, and how she looked, standing on a little platform scrounged up quickly before the ceremony so her dress wouldn't get wet from the ground.
Precipitation. When we met for the first time after years, it was snowing. I walked into a coffee shop, knowing she was in there, running my eyes across the room, looking for curly hair. Looking for that one dimple. The snow was melting onto my face. I knew I should be cold, but I wasn't, because there she was, back in the corner, facing the door. Maybe she didn't realize it, but when she saw me, she smiled. Just a little.
It wasn't easy from that point. We weren't friends, for a while, just people who tried talking. Then we were friends. Then, one night, after we had both drank a little too much, she walked behind me, on her way to a bathroom, and placed her hand on my shoulder.
Without thinking I took it. I pulled it in front of my face, twisted it, kissed the inside of her wrist.
I slide the ring on her finger.
She kisses me.
Horns honk, and she starts to laugh.

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