The inverted image of our house on a dangling droplet reminded me that everything I live for was momentarily sheltered inside a gentle bead of rainwater. My husband, our children, and the two dogs were going about their lives in this glistening other world hanging from the branch of a Japanese maple, as I sat transfixed beneath on a damp moss-covered stone. A favorite sauce for pasta was bubbling on the stove, French Open tennis was playing out on the television and an umpteenth load of clothes was slowly thumping around in the heat of the dryer. The thought of a world existing inside a raindrop was oddly comforting, and I had to wonder as I opened the door to step back into my life, if it simultaneously fell to the ground with a gentle splash and disappeared, deliberately, into the ground.


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