I was sitting under a tree, in a line of rocks that had been formed up to hold the barrier between the two yards. A couple of us had shaken loose, too excited to get going—though to the onlookers it simply appeared that the dog had dug some out, or that the birds had knocked us over, but we all knew the go-getters when we saw them. Those excited few that would dart out in front of the pack to get ahead in life.
Unfortunately, as we became domesticated, we realized we didn’t have a few months to get across the lawn anymore. Someone would undoubtedly trip over us on their way up the walk, and we would be set back at our starting line. But thousands of years experience helps break into the deeper wells of knowledge waiting for those who listen. Come the next rainfall, I talked to a few droplets on their way back to the sea, and asked them to send a cloud to bring me with them. That’s something you can’t do with sprinkler drops—they’re much too young to remember your message on the long journey home. But a rainfall, they’ve been around a while. For some of them, it might even be their last trip back.
It took a year, but the clouds came by in force. They pelted the ground until it was beyond damp, and the slick shells on our backsides started to roll. One rock, afraid of the sudden change, held his ground, but the rest cracked off of him and continued on their way. We rolled into the street, and the thick streams of water pulled us, ever so slowly, into the sewers. The fattest of us couldn’t fit to join us, and of those who made it, some of the stupid ones sunk to the bottom, thinking this life would be much better that whatever was to come, but I washed out with the rest of them.
It was a short few months to the beach. I was soaked to the core when the sunshine hit me, but the salt air was refreshing nonetheless—even to a lung-less being like myself. I was the first one out. I rolled down into a trench that flowed into the base of the waves. The waters rushed over me, splashing up into the air as they came into contact. These waves were calm, friendly, and had a song in their voice. They pulled me the last few feet to land in the clear waters. I sank down onto the sand and looked around. There were a few fish, listing about as fish do in the current. A school even came over to say hello, but before long they grew bored and moved away.
The current took me deeper, and deeper, until the light faded away. I saw bigger fish, whales, and even some unspeakable thing. Had I not been a rock, I had no doubt I would have been quite scared. They took me deeper, until the cool became cold, and the cold became freezing; and then, strangely enough, the freezing became a boiling vent of air, and I found what I was looking for: an underground volcano, with waves of lava—my brethren unborn and reborn again. I sauntered up to them to say hello, and their one collective voice echoed back their response. It was like listening to a choir, if a choir could sound so much like home. I nestled myself into the side of the volcano, listening to them, and dozed off into a much needed slumber.
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