I realized, recently, that my life is a pile of bricks I pass every day. Instead of leaving them in a pile, I want to build something with them. When I told my friend this, she replied, "If you are going to build something, might as well build a skyscraper."
I am light and cold as I float through the air, then become warm and heavy, clinging, and sliding down glass. On the window sill, I rest with the others that have melted. We band together when the temperature drops and we freeze together, creating a single form, as we do this we constrict and take up less space, drawing in on ourselves. For an unknown amount of time we sit like this, together, by accident or by a sequence of events that none of us could have planned or predicted. But here we are, stuck together, sharing our lives. An individual becomes a group of individuals which becomes one to the naked eye.
Ahh, warmth and I’m expanding again, becoming loose from my companions, oh how I will miss them now that I have gotten used to them – how hard to say good-bye. But I haven’t a choice as I roll, effortlessly, off the sill and onto the ground.
The dirt sucks me in thirstily – hastily – without pleasantries or introductions. I’m drawn into the dark roots of an object I can’t identify but it seems to know my species well and it draws me up. All along the pain, the loss of individual, the loss of companions, the loss of flight through crisp air with the greatest view you could ever imagine – it brought me here to this moment, to sustain life. I don’t know the future but so far it has been worth every transformation. I wanted to hold back, to hold on, to stay where I had become accustomed but I’m glad I didn’t. Oh the sun feels so good, it seems to lift me straight up into the air.