Together For A Moment, Then A Lifetime

Emma closed her eyes, content in her own essence, but an itch of discontent rippled through every cell of her being. She felt differently about life than the others, but also revelled in the awareness of how amazing it was to be a drop of water.

In her world, life moved slowly, lovingly cradled in the lap of a nimbostratus cloud. A seamless journey untethered by deadlines, expectations, or the shape of things. She was a fluid soul and malleable in any form. There were no obstacles to deter her, and nothing in her path that she could not overcome. She could flow through the slightest crevice, smaller than the eye of a needle, under or around all that might stand in her way. The rush of a waterfall, or the placid surface of a standing lake. A pool reflecting every nuance of her surroundings. In one moment, a floral tapestry, the next an amber and gold sunrise. She loved free-falling from the sky. One with all of nature. Perhaps she would drop into a lake and lap along the rocks and tangled roots along the shore. The blissful moment the heat touched her cheek, she would fly up to her resting place in the clouds.

There was only one thing she longed for, and that was to be seen. She wanted more. To be enveloped by another, locked in a loving embrace. The beating of a heart so profound her knees would weaken at the mere thought. That feeling was strong, but she buried it deep in the undertow. Among the millions of dewdrops, she suppressed her burgeoning desire and melted back into anonymity, as she was not meant to think such thoughts. And so it went: the evolution of her nature. Mist matured into dew, dew transformed into raindrops, and in the winter months, each drop met its tragic end. As winter’s frozen dagger pierced the soft nature of her ethereal heart, an inhumane metamorphosis ripped the life from her soul, leaving her corpse etched in frost. An unavoidable curse among her kind.

To humans, it all seemed so magical, but to those of the celestial phenomenon, it was a moment of grave proportions. This is the story of such an event. The silent cries of precipitation were imperceptible to the naked ear, but to those who have lived it, this is their story.

Take from this what you will and leave the rest to your imagination.

It was a cold winter day.

Clouds rimmed in pewter slid across the sky, heavy as if carrying the weight of a thousand raindrops. Each nimbostratus morphed from oblong to paisley, its shadows darkening the earth below, preparing it for God’s nectar.

In late December, the ivory sky merged with snow-capped roofs. Water swirled in the hovering clouds, each soul-drop within it joyful on this journey, each content being one with The All. The temperature fluctuated, unsure of its decision to rain or snow.

A northerly gust kissed the edge of the weighted clouds, and the temperature dipped below freezing. Encased in the cocoon of pillowy comfort, the torturous phenomenon began. The floating pond began its metamorphosis. It shrank with the speed of poison entering the bloodstream. Cracked bones of the unsuspecting, while limbs creaked as the pains of constriction began in earnest. What was once an ocean of one began the separation into tiny crystals. Those who understood the language of torment as the drops echoed across the sky could hear the wail of death. Shards of ice broke free, a contradiction of destruction and beauty. Each flake was now a feather-light prism of light. A water star unto itself. Emma, one of the former drops, cried in agony as her liquid essence fused into a solid mass. Another soul-star, Emilio, ripped from the glacier, gazed longingly into her soft, white eyes.

Emilio’s inner light connected with hers just before the separation was complete.

A slight tear in the clouds’ underbelly released the flakes, each a unique work of art, floating through the air, dancing through the wind while the torrent made its descent.

“Emilio,” Emma shouted, but the avalanche of snow drowned her pleas.

Among the deluge of precipitation, she collided with her other half, then pulled by the back draft, only to be teased again as they careened on a gust of frigid air. A surreal fall to their demise, but amid the chaos, a timid tinge of ardour grew. To the naked eye, these flakes were of the same species, but no two flakes were alike, and more than that, these two seemed to fit in a way none of the others could have fathomed. Two parts of a whole. The spirit of destiny and loneliness captured her heart as they collided across the great, expansive sky.

Children danced beneath the flurry of activity, unaware of the souls above, their arms outstretched, smiles wide with dimples deep enough to catch a wayward flake, a wayward soul never to know the togetherness they sought. Snow caught on black eyelashes and red wool hats. Dying in the blink of an eye.

White flakes against a white sky, each invisible until mere inches from the pink of human cheeks.

Swirling like whirling dervishes, the two flakes met again, skating along the current. A sorrowful sway of goodbye. The intense yearning in Emma’s translucent heart beat against the howling wind.

Flakes were separate by design, but to be so close was not enough. The wind scowled at the unnatural pairing and separated them by miles of unforgiving sleet.

Nearing the Earth, the temperature dropped a few degrees, and the edges of their crystallised bodies frayed. Through the storm, Emilio’s body vanished, and Emma trembled as if the cold had reached her heart.

“Emma,” Emilio whispered.

As she zig-zagged her way down, she floated, hovering, waiting until he was by her side. And there he was, a tattered version of his former self. War-torn and weary. She enveloped him with the strength she had left. Together in the moments before impact, he merged with her essence, and together they melted into the puddle, no longer distinguishable as separate flakes but one for all eternity.