The Small Things

March 31, 2012
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i/Never knowing where my home truly was, I learned to appreciate the small things in life./i Like, you know, my life. It was easy to feel small, alone as I was in that enormous crowd of family, friends, enemies, and frenemies - but mostly strangers. Millions of strangers. Everyone fought to be heard over one another, the chatter ranging from exotic places to lives saved to lives changed to who really cares, anyway? But then the sun came out, and I was lifted away from the babble. And I could fly. I soared up into the clouds, drifting wherever the wind blew me. Clouds aren't all they're cracked up to be, though. They're dark, and damp, and cold. That realization sent me spiralling back to Earth, crash landing somewhere I knew nothing about...except for the crowd. The stifling, squashing, invisibility-inducing crowd was there, too. You'd think I would have learned - if not on the first round, then maybe on the second, or even the tenth trip - that the flight is not worth the crash, that the clouds are overrated...but no. Even today, that's my life: the sunny high, the dark, damp fall, and the blue-tinged transparency that sticks around no matter where I go. Just rinse and repeat. I've travelled the world this way, because when you're a water droplet, you're so small that it's hard to know where your home is.

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