Everything Repeats

“There is a certain sameness to it all, don't you think?” She was looking at the fountain in front of her, thinking of where the water had been and where it would go.

“I suppose there is,” he replied, “but maybe that's the point.”

She nodded and noticed patterns in the pool surrounding the fountain. She thought of patterns in her own life and in the universe itself.

“Everything repeats,” she said.

“It's kind of beautiful, though.”

She smiled. It was hard to argue the point. Even the ugly parts, if you examined them closely enough, had their appeal.

Sometimes she forgot to examine things. She took the sameness for granted and grew tired of it.

“I'll have to remember that,” she said and tried to focus on individual droplets. She couldn't, but the effort made her feel good, made her feel alive again.

* * *

Many years later, at a different fountain in a different city, she sat mourning the loss of someone that had once been dear to her. He would have loved this place, she thought. But then, he would have loved any place.

She tried to focus on individual droplets again. She'd been practicing for a long time now but still couldn't do it. But the effort made her feel good.

“Everything repeats,” she muttered.

“Pardon me?” came the unexpected reply. An older gentleman was standing to her right. She'd been so focused on the water that she hadn't noticed him at first.

“Nothing,” she said, “I was just noting that everything in life repeats.”

He looked at her and then at the fountain. “Oh, you're right. I never thought of it like that.”

She smiled. The pattern was changing. It made her feel good.