A Gallon of Water



Picture yourself on a desert island walking and dreaming of that special someone who you missed so much. It is the heat of the day and the heat is crushing your dreams. Your thoughts are becoming cloudy with a dim site of someone getting nearer and nearer to you. You begin to walk, pace and do whatever you can to continue on your journey. Looking behind you see only one foot print dragging in the sands. Miles of sand between you and that special someone is the hope and your goal will be reach soon. You are unprepared for this noble meeting, yet you thirst for what you hope will turn into a successful rescue. Another mile you cross as hours slowly reach the evening and you think the heat and the sweat will end at the moment the sun goes down. But it doesn’t and a gallon of cool water would benefit you so much.

Turn here, go there are the direction you try to follow. While you keep moving forward your eyesight gather enough strength to see something so real, you still think it is a mirage

That is sitting in plain focus. You try to run to meet her knowing that the possibility, that she may not be there.

Just like the night air brings out the inhabitants of the desert land. So does, the inhabitants of the neighborhood who turns their light on and who casually walk by to investigate who is out there. Moments like this only come once every twenty-five years. Even on a desert island meant for two.

Although this might be a mirage, she has step into my life and now she steps into the house that is older than both of us. To a meet and greet the cornerstone that was laid many years ago. She seems too comfortable at the point of introduction. However, it appears to match her attitudes and the comfort that see she is her ability to adjust to any situation that might come up in the desert or dive across the city. Yet, I felt like a gallon of water has been poured all over me. I am trying to impress her in more than one way. But I think that I am become a clumsy jerk, knocking over thing that has been in our family house for over 40 years and walking off into the desert without my keys, seem to be a moment to remember.

I thirst for a gallon of water, to cool me down.

I thirst for the understanding that a walk on this desert land would reveal to me my special someone who would like to be closer to me.

I thirst for a gallon of water you bring to me.