Raindrops and Universe
I brought a little story:
We were both there, stepping our way together on the balcony after a long day of exhaustion. She leaned towards the fence, about 4 feet away from the rightmost corner of the pathway. After some relieving sighs, she smiled and watched as the raindrops set themselves free from the guarding clouds above.
“I feel like I’m becoming a little too selfish,” she opened up—seemingly to herself, maybe a little bit for me. “I feel like I’m thinking too much about this tiny speck of dust of life as a whole—I’m thinking too much of me.”
“Why is that?” I asked gently.
“I overlooked these raindrops,” she mumbled, while letting her hands out and catch a few of the droplets.
“I don’t think it’s something you should care about. You got a whole life down here.”
She chuckled slightly. “I’m just thinking of how special those raindrops are right now. They are just like us, you know. Parts of this world. Matters interacting—all is that, really. And they seem to enjoy gliding through the winds. I’m thinking of their stories, now.”
“Stories?”
“Before the main event that is right now. Before they decided to settle down here. Before they were condensed. Before they evaporated. It’s just beautiful that there’s this whole story we don’t really get to witness ourselves.”
“True,” I replied. I rested my eyes beneath the somehow busy but tranquil view of the city. It’s beautiful actually, that I’m part of this big picture.
“It’s always the case with everything. I don’t know if I should be terrified of that or not,” she continued.
“Mhm?”
“Every single of the most useless things we can ever think of have their own stories.” She proceeded to point at a paver brick not too far away from up here. “Well that stone brick might’ve been a witness of two friends strolling their way home after they had been accepted to work at their dream company.”
“That’d be sweet. Yes.”
“Might have.”
“Right, might have,” I nodded. “You know, yeah. It’s beautiful to start living your life as if you are life itself in this universe. Seeing the complete picture.”
After some silence, I remembered her previous statement, so I asked her about it. “But, why would that be terrifying? Aren’t those beautiful to think about?”
“It’s scary how much I will miss out.”
I chuckled. “Well, no, silly. They are missing out on so much as well,” I replied.
She glanced at me with a curious smile.
“They are missing the stories of us enjoying our seconds together here. And of how we got here. How you talked about this whole thing, probably.”
She laughed gently. A quite heartwarming and charming laugh.
“Well that’s true, yeah. I guess that’s kinda the beauty of it.”
“Living as our own roles of this big picture.”
“Right,” she said, as she leans to me.