Wrangling the clouds over Sweet Apple Acres is the loneliest job in the world, but I think maybe that’s why I like it.

It’s a worry that lurks while I push steel-grey rainheads over rows of trees, getting them ready to dump their water. My wife is down there, somewhere, but I can’t see her through the foliage.

The weird thing is? I’m glad I can’t.

I worry because I don’t think that’s how this should feel.

It’s just, the thing is, up here it’s only me and the sky; blue above, soft cloud below. I don’t regret marrying into the Apple family, not for a second, but they’re real workhorses, my wife most of all. When I’m up here, though, I get to set my own pace. I can squeeze in a quick nap, and nopony’s gonna know the difference, as long as it rains on time.

But then, for a fleeting moment, I wonder if she feels the same way about me: if she’s glad when it’s just her and her trees, and I’m not there. Sometimes it really seems that way.

I’m worried about that, too.

[hr]

After the day’s work, and dinner, it’s bedtime. Applejack’s already there, as I crawl under the covers and join her.

I nestle in close, putting my hooves around her and kissing her neck. She knows what I want, and I don’t get any objections, but at the same time… I sorta feel like I’m not getting much enthusiasm, either. And, okay, maybe that’s totally fair. It’s been a long day for her, I know.

Just… somehow, I can’t help feeling like she’s acting on an obligation, instead of a desire.

I don’t think that’s how this should feel.

[hr]

At sunrise, Applejack is long gone, leaving me with the bed to myself. By the time I’m actually [i]out[/i] of bed, plodding my hooves down the stairs to join the living, she’s out working and already probably has about ten different things done.

Sugar Belle is in the kitchen, and insists on feeding me a slice of apple pie and some conversation for breakfast, although really I just wanted coffee. As soon as I can escape—while being, you know, diplomatic about it—I head out.

When I step out the front door of the farmhouse, I see her, sitting on the porch. She’s a little sweaty and her hair’s messy, loose straw-blonde strands sticking out from under her hat, catching the morning sunlight…

[i]…Celestia, she’s hot.[/i] That’s still the first thing I think, every time I see her. But… is that enough? I don’t know. I really don’t, lately.

I walk over to her.

“Hey ’Jack.” The porch’s wooden planks don’t feel hot or cold underneath me as I sit down. They just kinda feel… there, I guess. And hard, and wooden, sure. But mostly just there.

“’Sup, Rainbow.” She doesn’t look at me. Her pale, leaf-green eyes stare out over the farm, looking blank, even though I know that’s not true; they don’t ever miss a single thing that goes on here.

“Not much,” I say, with a shrug. I wait a little while. “Just wondering something.”

“Yeah?” She continues staring away.

“…Are we still in love?”

A little jolt runs down her back, spurring her. She turns, leans in, and kisses my lips. And there it is. I feel that spark, like the static electricity just before the lightning strike, tingling, flowing, filling me with real warmth.

Then we’re staring into each other’s eyes, and the corner of her mouth bends upward and she gives me the most adorable little know-it-all grin, the way she does. “Whadda [i]you[/i] think?”

“Heh.” I grin like a fool right back. “Yeah.”

She skootches just a bit closer, so that our sides are barely brushing together, sending more of those warm little electric sparks through me as I lean my head against hers and slide my wing across her back.

It’s no great big lightning bolt, but I know as well as anypony, a stormcloud can't keep thundering forever. Besides, what matters about the storm isn’t the lightning – it’s the rain.

That’s what makes things grow.

That’s what makes it worth moving clouds.

And I know that sometimes, when I’m up in those clouds, it’s okay to be alone. It’s even okay to like it.

Everypony needs to be alone sometimes, and right now, I know that’s fine, because it’s not all the time, and right now, when it matters… we’re alone [i]together[/i].