The Traveler

When I wrote this, I was supposed to be working on submitting the next draft of "Changing the Game," but ended up staring out. my window at the rain instead. Here's what the result of that procrastination was.

May 25th, 2019

Before you had ever set foot on this earth, before the thought of you had been born, the raindrop has already lived a thousand lives. Or, as this number is likely incalculable, a million lives? More? Hmm.

He may have first lived deep in our coldest ocean, where he didn’t see sunlight for generations. Slowly, patiently, he made its way to surface. Since doing so, he has undergone countless transformations in his travels to and from the heavens.

He said goodbye, for now, to his new tropical friends as he rose above the bright blue archipelago and once again found himself reunited with the oceans in the sky. Imagine a futuristic city, maybe the ones imagined by dreamers in the 1950s, in which flying vehicles soared above the city below. The clouds, to the raindrops nothing less than the greatest form of public transportation, brought life and renewal to new skies and lands below. The drop had no destination in mind, for he enjoyed his chance to see the world from above. Like a bar on a weekend, the drop mingled with his counterparts and contemplated where their journey would lead them.

And, eventually, he began his plunge back to our earth.

Each time as he fell, along with billions just like him, side by side, the drop wondered if the fall would hurt. If the new life he would live until his next flight would be interesting, or if he’d just find himself meandering through crowded, less-than-desirable concrete canals.

Halfway through his descent, he remembered the time where he came in contact with the small bird, who calmly longed for the rain. The bird took shelter from the sky’s eruption, but stepped out every few minutes to enjoy the feeling as the drops helped her wash away the itches in her feathers. The drop, as he fell, saw his imminent contact with the bird, and smiled as he splashed onto its wings, which were spread open as if to welcome him.

The drop didn’t receive a chirp of appreciation, but was pleased enough by the unexpected softness of his landing: something it had not experienced before. The gutter in which he would later end up—where he would begin his cycle yet again—did not have the same quilted touch.

Now even closer to the ground below, the drop recalled the time where he fell to the earth in darkness. Every few seconds, he remembered, the sky would light up in anger, offering him a split-second glimpse at where he would be landing. The descent was not calming, he felt, and this for a raindrop was a significant emotion, somewhat afraid. He felt as if his descent onto lands below was not welcomed.

He imagined the children and animals who hid from the thunder that accompanied his arrival. The looks on their faces, wincing as the clouds illuminated and screamed with fury. The drop did not share the same animosity as the thunderstorm of which he was a part.

The drop was a traveler seeking a chance to be reborn, not to harm those already living.

But, after he landed and the storm subsided, he watched as the lands exhaled as the children emerged unscathed from their homes. For every child that quivered as the thunder rang out, there was a child who, on that night, overcame his fear of the storm. Next time, thought the raindrop, the boy will be older and will marvel out the window as he anticipates when the lightning will paint the skies, like veins of fire.

The raindrop’s impact with the ground was now only seconds away. Shapes and figures below him began to make sense.

The ground was a pale orange, dotted with darker freckles that were homes, maybe? The people below, who at this height looked like impatient groups of ants, awaited the drop like excited mothers in airports at Christmastime.

They reached their hands to the sky, each one hoping to be the first to touch the water as it fell.

The drop paused as he heard what he believed to be—a cheer? The ground below looked to be incredibly dry. He wondered when the last time this land had seen rain, or any clouds at all.

He splashed onto the dirt, where the children danced and sang to welcome him.

This will be my longest journey, thought the raindrop. But, as he had done thousands of times before, his job was to bring life to the world below.

For he is life itself.