She Will Gravitate When She Is Ready

After all this time living among humans, I have yet to grasp the meaning of simple actions: float, swim, walk. What are such things? I do not know.

“She will gravitate when she is ready,” my mom used to say every night before bed. What’s so special about gravitating anyway? It’s one of those things to be obsessed over. Like love or justice.

I see other clouds floating, rising, falling, or so they tell me. I see them play tag-and-run with lightning. I see them darken when they drink too much or when they are tired after a long game of tag. There are all sorts of games my buddies taught me.

When I was a little cloud, my parents would engulf me like an amoeba eats whatever it eats. I would fold into their wisps and doze off. After a few hours, they would let me see the scenery. It always changed after those naps. There was always something new to see. Giraffes and mountains and skyscrapers.

This one time, the other clouds and I came dangerously close to a rocket launch. It was exhilarating to see. But we were fearful of the enormous new cloud the rocket left behind. She sulked and stayed where she was birthed for a while. We were afraid to talk to her. Eventually, she became friendly and played with us.

And this other time, the other clouds and I crashed into a party we were not supposed to attend. At least that’s what my parents told me. It was a party for grownups, they said. But we were sucked in because we were close to the venue. We all danced in a giant circle. We know not why. It was fun. Faster and faster, we spun while we danced with the other clouds.

That was the first time my parents were angry, really angry. And afraid. And that was also the first time I heard my mom say, “She will gravitate when she is ready.”

Years passed. I saw many humans. Some would point at me and say things I didn’t understand. I would wave a wispy tendril of vapor at them. And they would marvel.

And then it happened. Perhaps I was reckless in playing a rather aggressive game of tag. I don’t know what happened. Perhaps the dust muscles were energized by lightening, or the vapor started condensing around the dust particles. I can’t be sure. But I started feeling dark, heavy, sleepy. I felt tired, but it also wasn’t me. It was as if someone was weighing me down or pulling me. Perhaps this is what gravity felt like?

I wanted the game of tag to stop, but I couldn’t stop. Now the Earth joined in the game. My parents had told me about gravitating. They spoke as if that was a good thing. I was not sure when it happened. It sounded like some ancient matron wanted to play with us kids. We kids didn’t want to play with grandma, however. Yet here I was, playing lightning strike with Earth.

It felt weird! Each tag made me heavier, pulled me toward Earth. The Earth and its inhabitants I had only ever seen from afar. Something was pulling me toward her. The pull felt so good!

I was melting, condensing and melting, gratefully. With a final pull of a lightning whip, I gravitated. I became a thousand million tiny water droplets and fell to the Earth.

Was I ready? I don’t know. Can someone be truly ready to gravitate? It is hard to tell. But when gravitation came, I was happy it did.

Now I have some time to figure out how to evaporate. That’s a lesson I will have to learn on my own. Mom didn’t teach me that. And when I evaporate, I will be a grownup cloud, back in the sky, teaching those brave enough to look at me how good it is to dream.