Mediocrity

Raindrops Are Brave

I have always been foolish and asked the kind of questions you never had the right answers to.

Like in that rainy Sunday afternoon when we were stuck in a waiting shed, nothing to really talk about so I looked down and the raindrops that hit the ground caught my attention. It was as if each little drop waited for this, built momentum from the minute of being released from the clouds and danced. In some ways they looked wrapped in excitement like they really waited to fall and hit something solid.

Maybe someone told them it was a happy feeling when they touched down from the skies. But maybe no one told them that it would only last for no more than just a second and after that momentary bliss, they'd find themselves as another ripple in the puddle that they themselves made.

And I thought it was sad, to be told of something that might make you happy, so you do it not really knowing the risks.

"But where do they all go?" pointing to the puddle after sharing my thoughts with you, I asked.

Silence was your reply that I already got used to.

I stretched my arms about and tried to catch as many falling raindrops as I could. Saving them from that hard fall and you did nothing, asked nothing, but watched.

Just as silently as you just watched me when I was not able to save my tears from falling months later.

"Why?" I asked you.

Another foolish question you never gave me the answer to. And you left me wondering where I went wrong and like how raindrops happily fell in thoughts of gracefully dancing when they hit the ground unaware of what happens next, I never knew nor fully understood the risks in falling for you.