It rained a lot last night. It's strange because it hardly ever rains in Colorado.
Because of the rain a bunch of worms thought it was safe for them to come out of the ground and float around through the water. They didn't think anything was out of the ordinary when they decided to leave the safety of their holes. They thought it was any old average night.
They floated around, probably thinking about the family they left behind down in the dirt. They were probably enjoying their new-found freedom. They were learning more, seeing the world, and really experiencing life.
Then, the rain stopped and they were stranded on sidewalks and roads.
As I walked across campus this morning I noticed that the majority of the squished worms were small, skinny worms. The ones who had probably just left the dirt for their first time. The squashed potential made me really sad. How would they have ever known that today was going to be the day they were run over by some bike tread? They could never have predicted that their new found independence was going to end up in their unexpected meeting with the bottom of someones Merrel shoe.
The really moving thing is that some of the worms were able to brush themselves off and wriggle their ways back to the dirt. Back to their lives, back to something they know. That they will go on digging holes and rebuilding after today gives me hope.