Week 13: Water

I hear a drop of water as the rain hits the window pane. I watch it descend in its irregular path until it hits the windowsill. There, it converges with all the other drops of water to hang on the edge until the weight of many causes a drop of water to fall to the ground. I imagine as it descends in its irregular path through the soil until it reaches the edge of the foundation. There, it converges with all the other drops of water until the weight of many pushes it through a crack in the wall.

Barbara Kingsolver wrote that “Water is life. It’s the briny origins, the pounding circulation system of the world, a precarious molecular edge on which we survive. It makes up two thirds of our bodies, just like the map of the world…Even while we take Mother Water for granted; humans understand in our bones that she is the boss. We stake our civilizations on the coasts and mighty rivers. Our deepest dread is the threat of having too little moisture—or too much…”

I think of water often. It surrounds me every day. I drink it every day, use it for cooking and I grow my food using water. I shower in water, I clean my dishes in water, and I flush my waste using water. I would not be here if it were not for water. I would dry up, a desiccated shell to wither and blow away in the wind. But there can be too much water.

Water overwhelms me much of the time. It seeps through the walls of my cellar and pools on the floor. The sump-pump kicks in every thirty seconds using energy derived from water. It pumps it out about 20 feet from the house. There, the water descends back down into the soil. Soon it hits the impermeable layer of clay and races back toward the foundation, to be pumped out again. The cycle never ends.