Empty

So there I was, around my fellow pots. Sure we were right by the road, but we were also inside the city. And people like pots in cities. And people like pots in their houses where they might be headed via those roads. “Any day now” was the prevailing emotion for most of us.

Some of us had been there for mere days, while some had been there for years. All we knew was each other, the road, and the police station on the other side of the road. Well, some of us knew the potter, but those faced him. I’m not sure which I prefer better. The police station made me feel safer, plus it added this awesome melancholic vibe to have never seen my creator. I guess I might have seen him cross us some day, but never recognised him. I was not sure how a potter was supposed to look like. I knew what Harry Potter was supposed to look like. His posters for Half Blood Prince, Deathly Hallows I and Deathly Hallows II were all on the police station wall. But that’s where my knowledge range ended.

Gamla though? Gamla had been inside a house. He was an experienced pot if I’d seen one. He had had water through him.

But ask him why he was back with us, and he just changed the topic. Matki said Gamla was replaced by a water purifier, but Gamla denied those accusations.

Anyway, there we were, when a young girl came by. She looked at me. She could have chosen any of my brethren, but she picked me. She asked the potter how much I was worth, and the potter retorted in the only voice we would recognise “1 is for 50, 3 for 120”

And that was enough. I was chosen. I was to hold water. This was the moment I had waited and lived for my entire life. I was cleaned, and set in a position I was to call home until my demise.

And then almost with no warning, suddenly I had water in me.

I’m not sure what I was supposed to feel in the moment where I finally lived up to my purpose, but I don’t think I did it right. I was full of water, and it was exactly as I imagined it to be. And yet, I felt…empty.

Over and over they filled me with water, and over and over I was disappointed at how underwhelming it all was.

Until yesterday, when the daughter of the little girl could not reach me, and in her attempt, pulled me out of my spot.

I wish I could say the crack hurt, and it did at first. But today…today I am back at the potter’s. He has grown old. He has fixed my crack, and I now face him.

And I missed this.