Although transparent, water can conceal the darkest of nights.

The flood had washed away the day before--

The warmth of summer drowned in the deep lakes concealing the streets.

Traces of yesterday’s festivities were gone--

There were no footprints

The fervid fragrance of the orchard had been replaced with the sweet scent of dew.

When I first arose, I did not detect her absence.

It was not until dawn that the natural light verified her vacancy.

When did the weather warp time? Where did the current take her?

As though caught in a riptide—fate had brought us together.

Me, from the West. And her from the East.

We had noted each other’s hair.

Mine long for a man. Hers short for a woman.

As the wind carried the clouds, and the clouds concealed the sun--

her pale skin molt silver to gold

And the day, whose events flowed into the cracks of time, melted away.

Turning

What-if into what-was

Despite Washington’s reputation for precipitation

She lamented: I did not prepare for this.

My reflex: No one is.

She accepted to share the shelter under my umbrella.

Occasionally she’d think out loud:

I find the spring showers to be symbolic,

In the West, each day feels fresh and renewed.

I inquired whether she preferred that.

“To live today as if it were yesterday grants me the opportunity to make things...right.”

I asked if the regularity bothered her.

She admitted that although bland; she appreciated the routine and being able to plan.

"Please understand that it was not until just recently that I learned to plant my roots—to cease being a rolling stone as one might put it."

I confessed I was never much of a traveler

That I carried the window to the world in my pocket.

Shortly thereafter we sought shelter as the sky drained itself into dusk.

It was a long twilight for me as exhaustion drew me in and out of consciousness.

It was a short dawn for her as the release of her past inner turmoil illuminated her eyes.

Between the rain and her personal disclosures, there was never a moment of silence.

“I am always running. I am afraid that ‘it’ will catch me. Whether ‘it’ is time trying to collect my health or ‘it’ is a deep repressed memory trying to freeze me in that moment forever.”

I assured her she was not in danger:

Time takes the body but enriches the soul in exchange.

Memories captivate, but time stops for nobody.

In the morning she had left my embrace.

I never saw her again.

But--

Like two streams forming a river I knew our lives were intertwined

forever.

I will never forget the rain.

To this day, I regret not having said goodbye. Would there be an opportunity to fix this? My heart hesitated, realizing that we might never meet again. I reflected on how I kept forgetting my farewells—like a writer who starts a million stories but leaves them unfinished. Since I was young, I was always told my head was in the clouds, fascinated with what might be rather than what actually was.

“Your head is always in the clouds!” my cousin scolded, effectively grounding me from my reverie. She was waiting in front of the apartment door, having been awake all night. Her expression was just as it was when my Mother passed away, incredulous yet concerned. Although we hadn’t known each other until she offered to take me in, she was the person closest to me—the only one who had not been taken away. She was the closest, but not close at all. We conflicted: she was self-assured and gazed toward the future while I was remorseful and lived in the past.

Unlike my cousin, who had lived in this apartment her entire life, I had never lived in a place for more than a year. When I was born, my father backed out of marriage—he had expected a son. Without his support, my mother struggled and we were forced to drift from place to place like leaves. In the early years it was fun, my Mother and I used to pretend we were on vacation; We made friends everywhere; we explored exciting places, and immersed ourselves in intriguing cultures. But as time passed and my friends began discussing their plans for the future, I became fearful that I might never become.

Throughout our journeys, my mother and I took many photographs. Early on they were of animals and landmarks. As the years went on, they became of me with my friends. Each year, on my birthday, my mother and I would take a picture of ourselves together, holding an envelope with our address. In that envelope was my present. The last envelope contained car keys, giving me the opportunity to take my life wherever I hoped. However, my hope was taken from me. My Mother was taken by her illness later that evening. In the photograph I’m smiling, but my memories from that day were far from happy.

What could I have done so we could still be together? Without hesitation, I would give up my keys—clip my wings—to bring her back. I would rather remain unfinished and no one if we could go back to drifting endlessly together. I was someone to her.

Today, I knew that I needed a complete change.

Although my life is routine, I chase novelty--

They say those who seek distraction are really hiding from themselves, but I realized young that I wasn’t interesting--

As my father reassured me: “You are nothing worth worrying about!”

Nothing was left from the day before but residual tragedy.

In time the torrential tides had rinsed away the foliage.

Their surrendered skeletons left abandoned--

Haunting the horizon.

Despite the new day, I resumed my old way.

Reduced to a river, the road could no longer guide me--

With resolution I replaced shoe with boot;

Knowing whose sole would walk me to the end of the day.

Amongst the desolation my rain jacket defined me

Its bright yellow lit me up against the world--

As though

Defying higher intention and implicating I had something to prove.

The sun walked with me as the day went on.

Eventually it took the lead and only my shadow was left behind.

Time was everywhere in-between

But I found myself somewhere yesterday.

“Please understand that it was not until just recently that I learned to plant my roots--to cease being a rolling stone as one might put it.”

How was it to let the wind carry her but never being able to settle?

How might it feel to be newly planted and able to grow?

She sought solace in anchoring herself--finding something she could rely on

while I found freedom in losing myself--finding something I could reflect on

An unsolved mystery--

She had me lost in thought.

“I am always running. I am afraid that ‘it’ will catch me. Whether ‘it’ is time trying to collect my health or ‘it’ is a deep repressed memory trying to freeze me in that moment forever.”

Perhaps she was too young to appreciate time--

the lessons it teaches for one to become an adult

Or maybe she was too old to appreciate life--

the memories it manifests for one to become ageless

I hope I had removed her remorse: her past pains

and alleviated her anxiety: her future fears

I wished we would meet again

So she might realize time would heal her.

For now residual tragedy existed in the world, challenging us to commence our lives.

At that moment I was lost no longer

For my revised route had returned me to my writer’s study

And I found myself in the present.

I was fortunate to be left only with a minor cold following the storm. Despite my cousin’s dismay over my voice having diminished overnight, she patiently listened as I recounted the day before. For the first time since I knew her she appeared uncertain.

“This is the first time you’ve opened up to somebody since you’ve moved here. Do you think you’ll find each other again?”

Although I hoped we would, I was afraid—what if he discovered an aspect of me that drove him away?

“What are you afraid he might discover?”

Hands folded patiently in her lap, she nodded in tacit acknowledgement as I confessed to feeling I was no one worth getting to know. Having to move all the time growing up, I confessed to having to leave everything behind. I could not become someone. If I had, it was not someone who even I had gotten to know.

“Don’t believe yourself! Being well-traveled makes you special. Everyone tells me they find you interesting and that they look forward to getting to know you more!”

I appreciated her condolences. However, I lamented, Mother was the only one who knew me. Like my past, I was forced to leave her behind.

I didn’t realize I was sobbing until my cousin put her arms around me. Needing to breathe, I broke from her embrace. Checking that my keys were in my pocket, I escaped the apartment.

-------------------

Despite having been on its way to recovery at dawn, the day had reverted to its dreary conditions by dusk. His raincoat was so bright that I felt compelled to offer him reprieve from the rain. Suddenly lit by headlights, he hesitated, appearing even more disheveled and disarrayed. About to refuse, he reconsidered, realizing I was a woman. He tentatively ducked into the backseat, shaking the droplets off his coat as he did so. His consideration assured me he was safe. Although shivering, he smiled warmly and expressed his gratitude. There was something about him that was comforting and familiar.

“Thank you for helping me out. The weather is terrifying—I nearly drowned!”

I told him it was the least I could do and confessed that I needed directions. He smiled and pulled a phone from his pocket. Seeing it had finished computing, he passed it to me from the backseat. I couldn’t help but feel in awe, seeing the world mapped on its screen. It was as though one could contain the world in their pocket. It reminded me of the albums my Mother and I made as we searched to find where we belonged.

“I hope that’s helpful. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Something bothered me. I inquired how he found himself left in the storm.

“I’m dressed to outlast anything, but the weather still took me by surprise.

When I woke this morning, the sky was so clear I thought I could walk to where I was going.”

He had prepared for the worst but was taken off guard. Mother’s illness was similar, I thought I was prepared, yet the worst was sinister and unsettling. The day I turned twenty-one, I returned home after having said farewell at the hospital. In my absence, an open window had welcomed the wind to invade. The wind disturbed the cards on the table, leaving them strewn in disarray. The same words over and over again scattered all over the floor: Happy Birthday! I hope your wish comes true! If only I had known earlier that my wish was to be blown out by the wind.

At that moment, the phone lost service. I returned his phone and pulled by the side of the road.

“Are you alright? We should be careful and wait until the storm subsides.”

A flicker from the backseat—he was checking the time. My mind was racing but going nowhere.

“No need to worry—At this moment we may feel trapped but we can escape if we think about something else…

For instance, we could share stories to take ourselves somewhere else and forget we’re here.

As they say, getting lost in a memory takes one out of the present and into the past.”

My cousin held the same belief, but as a pessimist. She admonished me for dwelling on the past, warning me I was forfeiting my future. That I was allowing life to pass me by.

“...Rain or shine, I have a deadline to meet tomorrow morning. I have to submit a script to introduce a lead role. Have any ideas?”

I reflected on what he had mentioned earlier. Perhaps, I suggested, if a memory reflected one’s past, then a relationship might reflect one’s character? He brightened at this suggestion and decided to introduce the lead through an exchange between him and his closest friend.

--------------------------------

Reflecting back on that night, I realized that he had saved me. I had languished ever since I lost my Mother. I would ruminate on every photograph we took together, trying to find who I was to her. But his musings that night made me realize I couldn’t find myself this way. Instead, I needed to find myself through the eyes of those who cared about me.

The day I turned twenty-one I returned home after saying farewell at the hospital.

An open window welcomed the wind to invade.

The cards on the table were abandoned and left strewn in disarray;

The same words over and over again scattered all over the floor:

Happy Birthday! I hope your wish comes true!

Gathering their well-wishes as I picked myself up from the floor, I resolved to make plans with old friends.

Although transparent, water can conceal the darkest of nights.

The flood had washed away the day before--

renewing the world by returning it to the past.

I hadn’t expected the storm to return everything to the night before.

I had not expected her.

If she were not lost herself

would I have trusted her good intention?

Otherwise, would I have washed away?

Only when we were lost together

Did thoughts of the future arise from the back of the mind.

An unwritten script extending endlessly

which through conversation wrote itself away.

I confessed to her how I wrote to fill the blanks.

Not only to pass the time,

but to bridge my understanding of the world

As I had never left home.

Her insight from where I'd never gone

opened a window in my mind.

One which I would leave open

in case she might be blown in by the wind and rain.

But until then days passed at my desk.

And a soliloquy emerged

jumping back in time

to when we met in that storm.

If I hoped to meet her again

In my mind

the window stood open

and all I had to do was jump.

Her words carried in by the wind and rain

Beckoned me to travel to the places she'd been

Reunited by soliloquy at long last

I welcomed her home as an old friend from the past.