The Raindrop's Long Day

Pearl had lived in the ocean for as long as she could remember.

She was a tiny drop of water, no bigger than a freckle, and she spent her days tumbling and rolling with millions of other drops in the great wide sea. They would swoosh under whale bellies and tickle the toes of seagulls who landed on the surface. It was a wonderful life.

But Pearl had always wondered about up there.

Every now and then, on very hot days, she would feel a strange, floaty feeling — like the ocean was gently lifting her. The older drops called it "the Pull." They said if you got pulled high enough, you'd leave the ocean entirely.

"Where do you go?" Pearl had asked once.

"Up," said an old drop named Sal, who had barnacles in his stories and salt in his jokes. "Up into the sky. But don't worry. Everyone comes back eventually."

Then one morning, the sun beat down so warm and bright that Pearl felt the Pull stronger than ever before. Her edges tingled. She felt lighter. Lighter. Lighter.

"Oh!" she said. "Oh, oh, oh!"

And just like that — whoooooosh — she lifted right off the ocean and began to rise.

The sea got smaller below her. The waves looked like wrinkles. The boats looked like toys. Pearl rose higher and higher, and the air around her grew cool and soft, like a blanket fresh from the washing line.

"Well," she said, catching her breath. "This is new."

She wasn't alone. Hundreds of other tiny drops were floating up too, all around her, and as they rose, they bumped together and stuck, forming a big, puffy, cottony cloud.

"Welcome aboard!" said a cheerful drop named Gus, who was round and wiggly. "First time in a cloud?"

"First time," said Pearl.

"It's brilliant up here. You can see everything."

And Gus was right. From inside the cloud, Pearl could peek down and see the whole world stretched out like a painted quilt. There were towns with tiny rooftops. There were forests like bunches of broccoli. There were rivers that looked like silver ribbons curling through green fields.

The wind pushed the cloud along, and Pearl felt like she was on the slowest, softest ride in the universe. They drifted over a mountain that wore a hat of snow. They floated past a flock of geese, who honked hello. They sailed over a farm where a little girl was lying in the grass, pointing up at them.

"She sees us!" Pearl whispered.

"She probably thinks we look like a dinosaur," said Gus.

"Do we?"

"I hope so. I've been trying to make the tail."

Pearl laughed. She could have stayed in that cloud forever.

But clouds don't last forever.

The air grew colder. The cloud grew darker and heavier. More and more drops were pressing together, squeezing and squishing, and Pearl could feel herself getting heavy again — the opposite of the Pull. This was the Push.

"Here we go," said Gus, grinning. "Hang on to your — well, you don't have anything to hang on to. Just enjoy the ride!"

And then the cloud opened up, and Pearl fell.

Down, down, down she tumbled, spinning through the cold air with a thousand other raindrops. The wind rushed past her. The ground came closer. Pearl wanted to scream, but it came out as a laugh, because the feeling in her belly was like sliding down the longest slide in the world.

PLIP!

She landed on a leaf.

A big, green, rubbery leaf in the middle of a forest. She sat there for a moment, catching her breath, watching the rain patter all around her. The leaf bent under her weight — just a tiny, tiny bit — and then tilted, and Pearl slid off the edge and dropped onto a rock, then trickled down the rock into a little stream rushing between the tree roots.

"Excuse me!" she called to a beetle who was sheltering under a mushroom. "Where does this stream go?"

The beetle wiggled his antennae. "Downhill," he said. "Everything goes downhill."

So Pearl went downhill.

The tiny stream joined a bigger stream. The bigger stream joined a creek. The creek bubbled and bounced over smooth stones, and Pearl bounced with it, bumping into pebbles and swirling around in little whirlpools.

She passed a frog sitting on a mossy log.

"Lovely day for rain!" the frog called out.

"Lovely day for everything!" Pearl called back.

The creek grew wider. Then wider still. And before Pearl knew it, she was in a river — a real, proper, strong river that moved with purpose. It knew exactly where it was going.

"Where are we headed?" Pearl asked a leaf that was floating beside her.

"The ocean," said the leaf. "I've never been. I'm a little nervous, to be honest."

"Don't be," said Pearl. "The ocean is wonderful. You'll love it."

They floated together for a while, the leaf and the drop, past a town where children were jumping in puddles on a bridge, past a family of ducks paddling in a neat little line, past a fisherman who was eating a sandwich and not catching any fish.

The river got wider and slower, and the air began to smell like salt. Pearl knew that smell. She knew it better than anything.

"We're close," she whispered.

The leaf quivered with excitement.

And then the river opened up, and there it was — the ocean. Huge and blue and sparkling, stretching all the way to the edge of the sky. The river poured into it like a gift being unwrapped, and Pearl felt herself spread out into the wide, cool water.

She was home.

"This is AMAZING!" shouted the leaf, spinning in a circle on the surface.

Pearl dove down a little and felt the familiar sway of the current. A small silver fish darted past her. A strand of seaweed waved hello. And somewhere nearby, she heard a voice she recognized.

"Well, well, well. Look who's back."

It was Sal, the old drop, rolling along the sandy bottom with his same slow swagger.

"Sal!" Pearl cried. "I went up! I was in a cloud! I saw the whole world from the sky, and then I fell as rain, and I landed on a leaf, and I met a beetle and a frog and a leaf who'd never seen the ocean, and I traveled down a river, and now I'm HERE!"

Sal chuckled. "Sounds like a long day."

"The longest," said Pearl. "The best."

"Good," said Sal. "Rest up. The sun will be out again tomorrow."

Pearl settled into the gentle rocking of the ocean. Above her, she could see the last clouds of the day turning pink and orange in the sunset. Somewhere up there was Gus, probably still trying to make a dinosaur tail. Somewhere on the shore, the leaf was beginning its own new adventure.

And Pearl — tiny, sparkling Pearl — closed her eyes and let the waves rock her softly.

She knew the Pull would come again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. And when it did, she'd rise up once more, and the whole wonderful trip would start all over again — the same, but never quite the same.

Because every raindrop's long day is a little bit different.

And that's what makes it worth the trip.