Rain

Earth is pouring down upon us so eagerly these days.

Siddhartha has had such stimulating words to say."Oh my god, mom! It is raining so hard outside! It's like
Earth is a puddle."

He stunned me with this phrase, charmed by his words, I sat and rediscovered Earth: a pure lagoon underneath a bucket of stars, brand new, fourteen billion years ago. Solar and Milky, expanding and birthing. One lonely moon. Blue moon, new moon, full moon, one moon. Her many years floating in debris and dust. Countless prevalent species, eating and breeding and creeping amidst weeds and rust. Martians and men exploring, dancing their days away without gravity or trust. Cosmic yet solid. Material. Matter and mass. And eventually, annihilation, extinction, and obsolescence.
Earth, would be, a thing of the past.

We sat in the rain that day and felt water and vapor. Molecules, some still holding on; deciding and dancing, others forgiving themselves and letting go. The trinity asked me many questions that day. Govinda crawled around, splashed and soaked. I could only answer the boys from ideas that I had read about or from the moments I had felt. Their theories are always much more simple and palpable than mine, so easy to digest. We sat in a puddle that morning, steeping. Infused. So many ideas, not much to mistrust. "Absolutely, son. Earth could surely be a puddle and you and I, a mere speckle of star dust.