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While floating in someone’s lemonade once I heard them read aloud part of a book in which the character cast a spell on herself and became invisible. Relating to that scenario is pretty easy. As a water molecule that sort of thing just comes naturally. (literally)
The world: a shimmering aqua and green blur beneath my “feet”; I felt myself leave the emerald foliage that was my home for the last few weeks. I’d overheard a science class talking about this a while ago while I was floating around in a small pool of water at the bottom of the classroom’s glossy black sink. Transpiration I think it’s called.
Feeling weightless I let myself float up nonchalantly; gaining altitude with every thought. Every cloud was a gleaming white, barren landscape that took over a vast measure of available sky; the cumulonimbus as large as Antarctica; the stratus like a creamy Red Sea.
As my journey to the north pole of the atmosphere continued, it started to grow another quality entirely. Apparently alone in a vacant region of sky I could feel the air surrounding me crowded with other cool, invisible dewdrops.
This sensation continued for several days. The 5th day of waiting finally yielded some results. The group of unseen water droplets adjacent to me started to gain a transparent appearance and slowly over the next few days this ragged group of stragglers slowly transformed into a puffy, white utopia.
Images of my voyage north came steadily back to me as I pictured myself inside of those huge, milky “sky”marks. While deep in thought, another cluster of memories returned to me.
I was swimming in a shallow swamp of lake water and a 4th grade class passed along the bridge overhead.
“Now class, what’s the step in water cycle that follows evaporation and is when clouds are made.” A sturdy voice with ring of superiority echoed over the scenery. I guessed that this was the teacher.
Steady streams of “Ooh, ooh!” and “Pick me, pick me!” rang over the lake for several seconds before the teacher made her decision.
The sweet, innocent voice of a nine year old girl was made clear over the throng of elementary students who were anxious for her verdict, hoping it was wrong so as to put in there opinion and receive the teacher’s praise.
“The step in the water cycle after evaporation is condensation.”
So that was what was happening. Now if I remember correctly. . .
“One more question.” The teacher’s clear remark was heard (amazingly) above the noise produced when anyone has the crazy notion of gathering a class of fourth graders and dumping them in the zoo for an out of school fieldtrip. “When a cloud forms through condensation what happens when it gets to heavy?”
Another chorus of “Pick me’s” rocketed of the walls of the alligator exhibit. The winner of this question’s “lottery” was a timid, scrawny boy with stringy, ash blonde hair.
“After cloud’s get too heavy it rains.”
“Yes Timmy,” the teacher gently replied. “But in class yesterday we used another word. Does anyone remember what it was?”
“Okay Brenda, you give it a try.”
“The step in the water cycle after condensation is precipitation and it comes in four forms: rain, snow, sleet, and hail.” Brenda rattled off the definition with the air of someone whose entertainment came from reading the dictionary.
Guiding myself back into reality I reported what I remembered to my neighboring molecules. The next step in our circle of life was condensation. The cloud we were currently taking residence in was moist and humid so I was pretty sure rain was going to be our source of transportation down to Mother Earth.
Sure enough a few weeks later the bottom of the cloud dropped out and the densely populated community of dew was released. Plummeting down to Earth in the swarming downpour I recalled riding in a fire truck red, metal rollercoaster car. It had snowed a few hours earlier and the remains (myself included) of the tiny blizzard were now receiving free passes on this coaster. (until we evaporated at least) The frigid temperatures however didn’t stop the hefty group of riders from taking a trip. After reliving the ride almost seventy-three times the plunge was still up high on my list of most outrageous dives. Thinking about it I came to the conclusion that being released from this cloud made the top ten as well.
Our racing sprint towards Earth was brought to a halt as we suddenly came in contact with the thick mass of roaring waves otherwise known as the Atlantic Ocean. Not the most happening place, but at least I could get caught up on all of the latest dolphin gossip.
Hitting the surface of this humongous body of water was only the beginning of my next expedition in the eventful story of my life.
In other words a new rotation of the water cycle had just begun.