The Drip

I pulled it off the rack and caught it before it fell.

The towel was so heavy I had to hold

it with both hands. Water, cold,

dripping steadily onto the tile.

I didn't realize they got this heavy.

I've taken a thousand showers.

I've hung up a thousand towels.

But this one was different. Savagely

soaked. Completely through.

Almost impossible to carry.

The weight of water.

Just water.

The same water that seems light

in the shower,

feels refreshing and clean,

becomes a burden

the moment it's trapped in fabric.

I stood there holding it,

watching the water fall,

thinking how much heavier it all

becomes when it holds something inside it.

How you don't realize the load

until you try to lift it up

and almost drop it on the road

of your own small struggle.