Embrace

It was one of those mornings when you wake up slow. When you swim out of a dream. Gradually rising, as if you could breathe under water. The sheets are warm around your skin like a lake in the summer. When you surface, you can see the soft glow of light on the other side of your eyelids. You take a deep breath and stretch like a cat. From fingertips to toes, you exhale. You think back on your dream one last time before it slips into the recesses of your mind. You hold onto that feeling of fantastic adventure, the vivid colors, and release it.

The covers are flipped off with a crinkling whoosh. You know you won’t get up if you’re kept this cozy. You roll out of bed. Wiggling your feet in the carpet, you’re reminded of the soft baby grass of spring. You turn to the window to see that vibrant bed full of life. But when you grab the string for the blinds you realize that soft morning light has a grey hue to it today. Curious, you pull the string with a jolt. Your suspicions bear fruit. The blue sky is hidden behind a wall of clouds. 

You feel a familiar sense of anticipation as you jaunt out of the bedroom to the back door. The wooden floorboards are cool under your fluttering feet. The metal doorknob sends an icy chill up your arm. You swing the door open so fast, there’s no squeal from the hinges. A gust of crisp air rushes through the open portal. The breeze glides against your uncovered legs, up your arms, to your face. It entices your hair to stand on end in its wake. You take in a deep, gushing breath. 

It smells like rain. 

There’s a thin layer of fog still caressing the grass, leaving glistening droplets of dew to remember it by. The birds’ chirps are few and far between, a soft quiet in their stead. You feel the corners of your mouth pulling up. You quickly shut the door, slowing to hear the latch catch. Without a moment of thought, you rush to the kitchen to put on a pot for tea. While the water boils, you hurriedly pull on a few layers, careful not to wake the still sleeping form knotted in the blankets. You’re safely donned in sweatpants, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks with the face of a knitted fox looking up at you. You grab your current read, Little Women, and head back to the kitchen. 

Steam is erupting from the spout when you arrive. You set a bag to steep as you run and slide into the living room. You throw the thickest blanket you have over your shoulder. You slide open the bread box, unable to stop it from getting stuck, you give it a shove that results in a heart-stopping squeak. You pause, waiting for a noise from afar. As all remains quiet, you grab the last cheese danish. You jostle your mug and book into your arms and shuffle awkwardly to the back door, anticipating a spill or a slip or a crash. 

You make it to the door without incident, but as you reach for the handle you remember the hinges. You exhale in a huff, and pull the door swift and true. The crisp air greets you once again, and in your excitement you forget to wait for the click of the latch. The wind leaves a bit of space for the air to creep in, thankful for a warm place to rest. 

You head to the porch seats. The wicker creaks out a welcome. The weathered cushions curl around you as you tuck in your feet beneath you. As soon as you open the soft pages you become engulfed in the moment you last left the March sisters. Without noticing, you quickly dispense of the danish. As you tip back the mug, the last few drops of Earl Grey slide past your lips, but before you can realize there’s nothing left, the tea bag plunks down in between your nose and lips. You let out a hearty chuckle, which is joined by a deeper laugh. 

You look over to the door with a start and see him standing stiff as a board, his hands tucked under his arms. One side of his mouth is pulled to his ear, revealing the dimple you adore. 

You set down the mug, feeling your face warm and your heart flutter, barely getting out, “Did I wake you?” 

He shifts on his bare feet, “Sort of, I heard the rain and felt a breeze. I think you accidentally left the door open a bit and the wind made its way to my feet.”

You suck in a quick breath, ready to amend any ill will for the oversight. But he looks down before meeting your eyes with a bashful smile saying, “I have an idea for a quick fix, let’s start a fire.”

The logs crackled and flared, expelling a satisfied breath of embers. He helped you drag the cushions off the couch, then the blankets. When the cold tiles were covered with plush cushions and soft fabrics he pulled you close as if to kiss you, but in the last moment he twisted, landing a raspberry against your exposed throat. You curled up, trying to escape his strong embrace as you let out a procession of laughter. In rebuttal you gently pinched his side, in just the right spot. He tumbled to the ground, pulling you on top of him as he lost control and begged for leniency. 

Breathless, your eyes met, and you leaned in as if to kiss him. But just before you could return the raspberry he held your face, and gently pushed his lips against yours. You sighed in acquiescence, producing that irresistible smile. 

You returned to Laurie and Jo’s larks while he embarked on another journey with Bean and Ender. The next few hours were embraced by the gentle rush of rain and the warm waves from the fire. After a while, even the lessons from Mrs. March couldn’t impede the need for something to eat. 

He played music while he cooked, you pulled him away from the stove for just a moment. He cradles your hand in his, the rough of his calluses was a comfort, as was the weight of his other hand on your hip. He pulled you in close and whispered your favorite words against your ear. Suddenly, you were pushed out in a spin, and pulled back with a twirl. 

The plates were quickly forgotten in the sink after eating. He kissed your cheek before leaving the room to retrieve his laptop. You glanced out the window, but your reflection was all that could greet you. The light had gone to bed early, leaving your ruffled hair and disheveled clothing in full view. You smiled as an idea came to mind. You walked briskly around the house, searching for the last place you left your notebook. 

You checked all the usual spots, between the side table and sofa, under the dinning room table, even between the milk and orange juice. But to no avail, it was nowhere to be found. “Looking for this?” Came a satisfied voice from behind you. 

Your shoulders lifted as you inhaled a soft gasp. You peppered soft kisses across his face and down his neck in thanks, luring out that dimple. 

Once the cushions were put back, you went to your respective corners. He worked on his music while you scribbled away, enthralled by the thoughts flowing through your mind. After what seemed like just a few moments, you started to smell a savory aroma. When you looked up he was in the kitchen again. “Can I help?” You called over to him.

With a smirk he said, “Already done, but thank you.” Soon he gave you a bowl of soup and a few pieces of bread. Somehow you were able to sink lower into the cushions as you inhaled the steam floating towards you. Words and laughter were shared with each other while droplets pattered against the roof. When both bellies were full you watched movies until your eyelids were heavy. 

He headed to the bedroom, “I’m right behind you, I just forgot something.” He turned to give you a drowsy smile before going through the door. 

You pulled open the back door, slowly this time, letting the hinge sing it’s ‘hello.’ You shuffled quickly to the table by the wicker chair. Your hands cradled the forgotten mug, it's porcelain surface sent a frosty bolt up your spine in admonition. Before closing the door for the night, you turned. The rain muffled your words to a whisper, but it heard your thanks just the same.

You curled against him, putting your glacial hands against his warm chest. He sucked in a gasp and pulled you close. You fell asleep in a safe embrace, to the sound of rain in its eternal ebb and flow against the soft spring grass.