I found this saved on my phone. I think I wrote it about a year ago. Titled ‘Competition in our Daily Lives’
As the whitewashed sky slowly got covered by grey clouds, I sat in the attic; waiting. There was a window on the right wall, which often showed me more than just oak trees and sparrows. As the sky progressed through shades of grey, I could hear thunder rumbling. It was soon raining. The sky looked like ink spilled from a bottle. I stared up at the sky, half fascinated, half relieved. At least my baseball match would be cancelled. The lightning tore apart the dark fabric, and the night night seemed to sound only of water.
My baseball bat sat in the corner of the room. It would’ve been our second match, but its not like I get to play much anyway. I looked out of the window, at the rain. It was like a distant memory, but a far-fetched promise. I thought of myself, five years ago, sitting on my Little League pitch. My soaked skin spoke of lost matches and bad lemonade. Rewind to two more years in the past. It was my eighth birthday, a pool party. I was crying; the rain drenched with my tears. That very morning, I’d been waiting eagerly for my friends to arrive at our farm, only to be greeted by my oldest friend. The pool party was cancelled due to the heavy downpour.
I could go on with memories, with instances, but as I looked at the rain, it felt like nothing had changed at all. It was like nothing ever changes.
For the first time, today, I closely observed the raindrops falling on the window. The torrential, yet innocent drops glided down the glass, touching it delicately.
Some drops made a path down the glistening glass, asymmetrically. I noticed the drops, like minute tadpoles, racing each other down the window. Most followed the same path, yet a few made their own. The raindrops were constantly competing, yearning to be first. Yearning to reach the finish line. Although, some took long, hard paths. Paths which hadn’t been made before. They reached late, yet arrived at the same place. All the raindrops formed a puddle on the metal ledge, on the exterior edge of the window. It was a homogenous substance at the end of it all.