Droplets will flow

The pitter patter of the raindrops, so rhythmic to my soul, it gives a kind of deep comfort that can only be gotten from it, the beautiful droplets that would plop onto the glass window then slide down with so much grace. The same grace as the rushing water falling off the cliff of a waterfall into the gushing dip below awaiting to collect and move down the river, ever so gently grazing and connecting with the rocks, foaming with joy towards an unknown destiny, each drop merging and parting with every rapid. The gushing sounds makes everything around me disappear every time. The still lake met with the wind that carries it in every which direction to be contained in the same body but large and clear in their motion. I find myself in love. In fascination and manifestation of every droplet. Like me hit on indurated circumstances, just sliding off into rapids unknowing of my destiny. 

I find calm in water, I find peace in water, I find comfort in the unknown destiny of droplets. It is the only way I have rationalized to be. There is in no way the predetermined path in my life has come even close to fruition. Like the droplets that fall off the cliff, I have dove into the abyss, in the company of the innumerable but in the comfort of solitude.

I was a bright child, promised a bright future of academic or corporate or social accomplishment. ‘Destined for greatness’ they said as I aced examinations and excelled in sports and extracurriculars. Trauma would hit me at the infancy of this dream building and the road to redemption was an isolated one. I am an adult reminiscing those notions.

To say that I failed would be a cop out. I stand here, thriving, living a rewarding life as a mother, as a wife, as a contributory participant in society. Like the river droplets, I met other droplets for brief moments in time before separating and taking a different path. Though the persevering bonds are few, the short ones that got me by, led me here. The river has yet to meet the ocean. The end of the ocean that meets the beautiful horizon the sun dips in the evening, is not yet found. I keep flowing. 

It has been the fear mongering in my brain coupled with the demons of mental illness that kept me from my dreams. I hold fast to the dreams of finding my greatness, my place in this world that had shun me for so long. 

I long to flow like the water as I imagine when I close my eyes, allowing all my senses to meld with the beauty and grace that is the flow, the rhythmic taps, the soft hum and whoosh. The abrasions just the way the flow has to go. I long to flow and be unstuck from this pain and torture of mediocrity not of my choosing.

Do the raindrops hurt before they slide down that hard glass? Do the droplets cry when they hit the rock to be released and then hit again by another and another? How to they keep flowing? Every time I’m around water or if there is a drizzle or showers, my whole self longs for the perseverance and strength and courage to keep moving.

I have often found my self the stagnant water in the bird bath, waiting for someone to pour over or for a bird to perch that I may attach to its feathers to escape into the wind in its flight. I have to believe the water feels no pain that holds, that it is fluid and assisted rather than hurt by all it comes into contact with. Tender touches or long flow against a rock bed, it flows still. With grace, with power, with beauty giving observers like me peace. 

Destiny awaits my arrival.

In that I find my flow in life filled with rocks I am afraid to graze but have in many times proven peaceful and sometimes even joyful. I delve in isolation but the truth be miles from it. All relationships matter, casual friendships that go by on texts, or friends I see but twice a year at my children’s birthday parties.  Even the brief ones at restaurants I regularly visit, the stores I go to. The cordial neighbors I pass on my evening walks if only to be a familiar face as a smile for the day. The smiles at the checkout counter, I take them as the soft grazes of the water passing the rocks every so gently before moving on and separating into foam on the rapids. I reform and I will find my day. Until then, I indulge in the sweet sounds of water that fill my soul.