Cup of Rain
Mama always told me that I could never go outside. I was to weak, to small, to skinny to survive there. "Outside your room," she would say, "there is nothing but darkness, sadness." She would point to the rain pounding against the glass, the water gathering on my window cill, dripping down the peeling wallpaper, black with age. "See how the rain pounds mercilessly against the glass that holds you in?" I would sit, silently watching mama as she explained her senseless point of view to me, my body sore and my mouth stuck shut. My eyes would follow the rain. Mama would pat my cheek and say, "You belong where no such rain can harm you," her voice soft, fake.
Once she left, I would pull myself out of my bed, taking deep breaths so that I would be able to slowly make my way towards the window. Mama may be right, the rain was cruel, but I didn't see it. I would lean against the wall, and reach out with my shaky hand to touch the cold glass. To me, the glass was a wall, keeping the rain from me. The rain, as it trickled down my window, was crying. It was crying for me. The rain in all the books that I had read over and over again, the only entertainment I had on hand, was a mask for something, a dark force keeping them from doing what they wanted. A humans interpretation of the rain.
I would like to believe that because I was so weak, with only books and my imagination to work with, my mind was stronger then anyone else's. I was determined to be correct about the rain. Something so free was being contained by the shadowed buildings and the paved land. If I slept, it would be gone, leaving only a wet trace on my window. Mama would come back with the horrible pills I had to take and look out the window as I choked them down. "It's sunny today, Amelia!" she would say, her voice fake and cheery, trying to make me feel the emotions I did not show her. I would not talk to those who had lesser minds then me, who looked at only one view point. She would look back at my glassy gaze and sigh, "Mi hija, why do you not listen? Do I not work enough to keep you entertained?" I looked out to the sun, the sun that evaporated the water, the tears of the sky. I hated it. I couldn't do anything to keep the water there, I was to weak. The objects of the buildings, the pavement, the people, tried to suppress it, to keep the rain from reaching the earth. Such an offensive thing in my eyes was invention to others.
Then I had a thought.
What would happen if I could catch the rain? Could I do it? Could I keep the rain here? Could I guide it towards the land that thirsted for it so badly? I forget who said the quote, "They paved over paradise and created a parking lot." Could I change it or make a dent in what the world called progress?
I waited and waited for the rain to come. I could feel my body grow weaker and weaker. Mama was in my room standing beside my bed, holding my hand more then she ever had. She came in my room with eyes red with tears. I didn't under stand her, why be sad about something that was evident from the day I was born? The medicine became harder to choke down my throat. My eyes were blurry as I stared out the window. Mama would speak to me but I did not hear her. I needed my energy for this last project.
Then if finally came. It was almost morning, my body was full of the strength I had been saving. Mama was sleeping beside my bed, her hair messed, her clothes crinkled. She hadn't slept since a few days ago. I allowed a smile to cross my thin lips. It would be better for her to be asleep for this. She would try and stop me. The rain was pattering against my window. Slowly, I pushed my blankets off my skinny legs. Silently, I moved over mama, glancing at her worn face. I would have to give her credit. She tried, she tried hard to keep me here but my mind never was.
I retrieved the cup from the bathroom that Mama always used for my pills and moved quietly down the stairs. My head was pounding, my breath short. I paused, it was to early to lose my energy. I had to get my cup of rain.
The door creaked open, my hands fumbling for the strings of my tennis-shoes, new and stiff for my clumsy fingers. I had never worn them. The rain was blown onto my face, cooling my fevered forehead. I sighed, my fingers clung around my white cup. The rain was inviting me. I was almost sad to add to the walls that kept it from the ground. I pulled my way out the door forgetting to close it behind me. It wouldn't matter in the end anyway. My limbs, I couldn't feel them anymore. I staggered my way to the sidewalk. People stared at me, the girl stood in the rain without an umbrella who held out a cup to catch the rain. The water cooled my fevered body, my limbs feeling the pain of the freezing drops. I close my eyes and tilted my head back allowing the rain to run over me. It was a comforting feeling, better then sitting in bed all day. I glanced into my cup, it was filling up slowly.
A shock ran through my body. My legs crumpled from under me. No, it was to soon! I couldn't leave just yet! My cup of water was tilting, still tightly clutched in my hand. I fell my body fall back into the puddle that was surrounding me. I felt the water soak through my already wet clothes. I felt no pain, my body was already numb. My hair floated about my face, my vision blurring. People stared at me, I could feel it, but they did not help. They turned their backs and walked away. Faintly, I heard the door to the house closing. I heard Mama calling, "Come back inside, mi hija! It is dangerous for you!" I smiled, feeling the rain wash away my senses. It filled my thoughts, my hearing, my sight. Mama moved out into the rain farther, "Mi hija?" Her voice was slowly fading away. I relaxed my body, I was done. Once I was gone, the water, the rain, would have earth to go to. If I was still here, I could not be earth. I closed my eyes, and sighed allowing the rain I loved so much, take my soul away.
Yay! Short stories! So, I wrote this one when I was feeling really depressed around the beginning of August 2011. (Don't ask me why I don't have a clue now.) Bonus on using some Spanish from the classes I take. As usual, for me most extreme emotions result in stories or poems and poof! This got written! I believe I was inspired by a photo but being so forgetful I, yet again, don't have a clue what photo. -.-; Oops. Anyway! Hope you enjoyed it! Comment! :)