Poetic thoughts of tampons

I was walking to my history final at an ungodly hour of the morning. It was raining. Not one of those sprinkle rains, it was one of those gushing rains. I was in a bad mood, I wasn’t prepared and I did not want to be there. It was still dark; the amber of morning dawn was not even on the horizon. I took one more step and stopped. I realized I was choosing my mood. What was wrong with m? I love the rain! I need the rain, we all need the rain. It washes away the dirt of yesterday. It gives us a chance to be reborn, a chance to create or recreate ourselves. And there I stood watching it as it gathered in a stream on the pavement and pushed with a dying force to the gutter. Then something white caught my eye. It was a tampon, unused, but a tampon unwrapped in the road. I just stared as it was bugling and refusing to give an inch to the waves of rain rushing it. I realized that often I am the tampon. I am unyielding to an unstoppable force. I expand, hold my ground, and force people to walk around me in wide circles. I was happy to see the tampon winning the war, but I was sad to see that by being unmovable it gave up it right to be a force. So, I decided that today I would not be a tampon, I would a rain girl. My own force to be reckoned with and sweeping away to the gutter all that is no longer needed. I walked on to class stepping in the puddles and grateful that my love had bought me new boots last month. The water rose on my jeans and I smiled at everyone I passed because I remember the greatest gift that the Divine has ever given me, and that is the knowledge that all that is done can be undone. We are all rain. We can change course, change the course of others, and above all remove the mistakes of yesterday.