Drip

Have you ever heard the drip of a leaking faucet? A DRIP, DRIP, DRIP that starts out to be something you barely notice on the edge of your awareness. It's there, but distance or distraction mute the drip, drip, drip and sometimes you forget the drip is there at all.

Then there are times with the DRIP is louder. Night time maybe, when the house is settled and you are quiet. It starts out feeling meditative, almost calming in its repetition. DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.

Overtime, as the drip continues, it begins to seem more present, louder even though nothing about the drip has really changed.

You try to fix it. You try to block it out. You muffle it. You accept it. You fight it. But the drip continues. DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.

Then the dread comes in. When you are awake, you hear it. When you are trying to sleep, you hear it.

DRIP.DRIP.DRIP.

The drip consumes you. It's all you talk about. It overshadows everything you do because it's made you tired and cranky and irritable. People dismiss it because, well, they can't hear it or don't hear it as often as you do, so it's not their problem.

DRIP.DRIP.DRIP.

You turn the faucet tighter. Looser. You read books on plumbing and call in various experts to stop the drip. You talk to the drip, asking it to stop. You try to plug it up, but the water finds it's way out and continues to drip, drip, drip into the sink. You avoid the room with the leaky faucet. You turn the music up louder to drown out the sound. You wear ear plugs and put a pillow over your head at night.

One day, out of nowhere, the drip stops. You are shocked by the silence and skeptical at first. Then you allow yourself to relax. You feel proud of your efforts to fix the leak and relieved that it's stopped. You are hopeful and rested and calm.

DRIP.