Aspects

I am in water, free from restraint, drifting in the newly formed, bulbous clouds.  But I am so much more than water.  There was a time when I was whole, when I was a live, breathing being.  There was also an infinitesimally short time when I was not alive but was whole, floating above the road where my broken body lay, limbs askew, head bent back, with some valiant stranger failing to save my life.

I am not whole now.  I am an aspect.  An aspect of who I was, the part which exists only for her.  For Helena.  Our memories, our love, our life is within me, but no more than that.  I have no mass, no charge, nothing but her.

The ebb and flow of these airborne structures hold me, shelter me.  I navigate the sky above, tracking and hunting her, until the moment when we can be one again.  But I have been thwarted, the arid landscape below mocking the bad timing of my demise.  Long have I awaited my passage back to earth, back to her where my purpose will be complete.

But, at last, the time is here.  My lofty vessel is no longer fluffy and passive but is a sea of violent grey.  I am drawn to her, knowing it will be soon and then, without warning, am released within a raindrop, the first from the cloud. 

I can see her walking as I descend, dodging the never-ending flow of people pulsing in through the city at this time of day.  I am closer now, so close I can see her hair shifting in the breeze, warning of the oncoming storm.  She looks different to my memories, pinched skin and tired eyes, but it is her.  My other self.  I am so close now that I can see the hairs on the arm I am being drawn to, the skin pores form an opening for me to be with her again.

Helena felt a droplet catch her bare arm, dissolving into her skin before she had the chance to wipe it away, and looked up at the sky which seemed to gaze back down with angry reproach.  She double checked her bag and was reassured to find the purple spotted umbrella still within, albeit languishing at the bottom beneath sunglasses and sun cream.  Looking at the wilted park she was bustling through, once a vibrant green, now shades of beige, she uncharacteristically did not regret the end of the long sunny days.  There has to be rain sometimes, things must be refreshed.

And, with that thought, she put on her coat, got her umbrella ready and carried on home with a slight smile formed in the corner of her mouth which was not there before.