A Raindrop’s Path
Drip… drip… drip
The steady buildings were embraced by the streets, the roots of the city, connecting one to the other; held together by the sidewalks acting as vessels, carrying thousands of pairs of feet per day from one destination to the next, keeping the city alive. The sky was dark and the sidewalks quiet, surely recovering from the day prior. Slowly freshened by the early morning dew, they were soon cleansed from the sudden downpour of water falling gracefully yet chaotically from the sky. The concrete, stones, and granite all sighed from relief, washing away any evidence of the footsteps – a reset. As quickly as the rain came, it stopped.
The sky faded to a light blue. The only noises came from the occasional car passing in the glistening streets and from the leftover raindrops falling off of the buildings. The raindrops uniformly fell to the puddles thirty stories underneath, watching the world for a split second as they dropped before disappearing into the street’s drain.
Drip sixteen… drip nineteen… drip twenty-one... As drip twenty-three emerged, it stalled. While stationary, it took the opportunity to stare at the streets below as it filled with more cars, watching everything go by until eventually, it fell. Falling, drip twenty-three was aghast at how brief its observation time felt. Its brothers and sisters seemed to stall for much longer. Panicking, not ready to give in, the little drop grabbed onto a ribbon of wind, landing on the side of the building it fell from.
As it slid down slowly, it was stalled once again, only this time by a puddle that had settled on a balcony on floor two. The view was not as vast from here, yet there it laid, enjoying its extended life… but what for? Staring at the bottom of the balcony? It wondered how long it could stay here, unmoving. The sun slowly rose over the buildings, eventually pouring its golden light across where it rested. The little drop enjoyed the heat of the sun but slowly noticed that the puddle was getting smaller and warmer. “Stay here,” it told itself. “Sun shining, surrounded by the comfort of the puddle: this is better than possibly sliding down the drain.”
There it stood, withstanding the temperature of the puddle as it rose, avoiding the feet of pigeons bathing in it. Eventually, the sun disappeared behind the buildings, then behind the horizon. Because of the sun and the pigeons, the puddle had reduced to the size of a basketball. Knowing it wouldn’t be able to stay there much longer, the little raindrop continued to think through alternatives to burning in the sun or sliding down the drain. It asked its nearby brothers and sisters, but none responded. Was it the only one aware of what was happening?
The wind picked up, slowly moving the puddle towards the edge of the balcony. Then, the wind stopped. The puddle was just at the edge of the balcony. The little drop had a decision to make: Would it stay and guarantee to see another day? Or would it let itself fall over the edge in hopes of a better view but risk falling into the drain? The little drop weighed both its options as the sky turned from black to light blue once again. It was now late morning. By the time high noon hit, the puddle would be gone. There wasn’t much time. Pushing itself to the edge, it fell into a pocket of the wind.
The little drop surrendered, letting the wind shape its future, until it landed in a stream on the side of the road, next to a sidewalk. Following the stream from Pullman Boulevard to Wood Acre Street, it let itself be carried until it reached a fork in the road. It quickly grasped onto the curb, so it could pause and determine which direction to take. Holding on desperately, it asked every drop that flowed by which direction was correct. With no answer, the drop let itself be carried West, desperately hoping not to meet a drain.
More rain clouds rolled in, and the little drop absorbed the water from the sky, feeling stronger and stronger as it made its way West, enjoying the view of the sky and the big skyscrapers passing by. With all the rain, it wasn’t surprising to the little drop that it was able to stay in the stream for a while, enabling it to jump over the occasional drain. The little drop tried to calculate how far it had traveled but lost count after being enamored by the new views. Had it traveled it miles, feet, inches? The drop didn’t know, and it didn’t care. Eventually, the stream slowed. Sighing, the little drop reflected on its journey so far. It looked around until it fixated on a drop nearby doing the same thing. Its interest peaked.
“Which stream brought you here?” The little drop asked curiously, not expecting a response.
“I’m not sure, but I’ve been stuck here awhile.”
“Do you know where to go from here?”
“No, do you?”
“We could try that way,” it asked, looking hesitantly towards a narrow stream they were approaching just south of them.
“Are you sure? Do you know where it leads?”
“I do not.”
Uncertain, the drops nervously jumped to the other stream, letting it carry them, wherever it may lead.
