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100 Words on Love, by Gint Aras
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There is in every storm, no matter how devastating or brief, a final raindrop to complete the tempest. It follows other drops to witness all their billion falls; it swirls and swoops with the wind, the sky lit white by lightning, and it feels the pounding energy of every wave of thunder. That drop, certain of its fate, lands in the dirt to splatter wide and disappear. When you remember me, if you ever do again, I hope it will be this way, as the storm’s final drop. A tiny life spent in free fall, your first note of solace.
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Read more from the series 100 Words on Love
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Photo: Flickr/Mike Poresky