Practice. Practice. Practice.
Without realizing it, in a span of four months, I've written to you twice. The first was about rain, and the second was about snow. From September to December, I wrote of wanting to watch different types of weather phenomena with you. I find it strange to want something so mundane. A few drops of rain, a flurry of snowflakes, and the desire to share them with you is unequivocally strong. Some days I'm not even sure what we're doing, why I'm with you, but then I think of the rain, I think of the snow, and then I understand. Water in any form is still water. Even as the seasons change, or my feelings waver, there will always be a cloud.