A Single Pink Drop

In the home I'm temporarily staying in, the shower-head has a lovely pink scrubbing towel draped over the back of it. Every 6 seconds, a single pink drop falls between the steams of water. After it falls past the scrub towel it's impossible to see. As fascinated as I was with it today, I told myself that it was completely impossible to follow it after that point. 

I said that to myself while crying. As it turns out, my temporary home was supposed to be my permanent home. Some details, that were out of my room mate's and my control, state that I have a limited number of days I can stay... And then? Then what? No idea. Hence the tears. 

Flashback to my previous location. I wasn't pleased to have to withdraw from classes. I wasn't pleased to have to talk about the finances of departing from school with a woman who I was sure didn't care about me, either way. As I got up to leave, I thanked her out of principle, and then told her I liked the poster on her wall, full of positive thoughts. 

Her manner changed. She smiled and agreed with me. Then she spoke a blessing over my life. 

"You will find a path in a place where you think there is none."

As I thought  back to that moment, I didn't realize that I had extended my hand. Within 6 seconds, I felt a single drop fall into my palm. If felt so different from the pressurized streams of water. And yet I had just said to myself that following the path of that drop was something that could not be done. 

That's the "impossible" for you. Effortlessly proving us all wrong.

So what has been impossible for me, lately?


For years, I've wanted to record albums, give recitals and do live events. I've wanted to learn all about French art songs (I love the way Debussy flirts with the jazzy and a-tonal, and it suits my voice), and all kinds of styles. I've wanted to share my art with friends, and make more friends that way. But getting started is a challenge. And asking for help is akin to begging, at least for me. 

But what if I asked anyway?