He could never concede. Not in anything.
It was always this, that, and the other. He always forgave. But could never forget.
As the storm clouds brewed, he couldn’t let the grey skies pass.
He struck that chord. He said those words. And the rain fell. Light on the roof as they sat in silence.
He wanted to take it back but knew he didn’t mean it. As the rain grew heavy, she walked away and he barely moved toward her.
Thunder screamed across the sky as they both sat in their separate peace.
And as he tried those familiar words to get past it at his own pace, the rain fell heavier.
They spoke. But with a marked vulnerability. They spoke of the past and their present.
Of the future and where they could be. Of what forgiveness had to look like.
And in that, maybe, that’s what love looked like.
Maybe love looked like forgiving what was unforgivable.
Maybe love was finding a way to care that he hadn’t thought of before.
And maybe, when Love is patient, kind, does not envy, does not boast, is not proud, does not dishonor others, is not self-seeking, is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs, does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth, always protects, always trusts, and always hopes, Love always perseveres because then, Love cannot fail.
So maybe, it was about finding what love looked like for them. And fighting to never let that go.
So as the rains fell heavy on the roof, he held her and whispered,
“No matter what, I want to be by your side. Because without you, things go hazy.”