The raindrop

6:33 AM, I'm still at home and in a hurry to grab my umbrella before running out. Although the distance between home and the train station shouldn't take more than 15 to 20 minutes depending on traffic, the challenge is always finding a taxi quickly.

Despite my many experiences, I still can't seem to learn the lesson. Every time, I'm convinced I have enough time, but I end up running the last few minutes to catch my train.

As I leave the building, it's still dark, and a light rain starts to fall. Instead of opening my umbrella, I decide to keep walking without protection. I assess that the extra effort required to open and close the umbrella before getting into the taxi will be more significant than the inconvenience of getting slightly wet from the light rain.

While waiting for the taxi, my mind naturally, as usual, launches into a reflection, this time on the fable of the tortoise and the hare.

The story says that the tortoise won the race because she never stopped moving, unlike the hare who, despite his considerable lead, was distracted before reaching the finish line.

I think that the lesson to be learned from this story is probably the perseverance of the tortoise, not her slowness. If the hare had not taken a break, he would probably have won the race without difficulty.

My reflection is interrupted by a soft sensation of a drop of water sliding along my left ear, making its way to my temple and crossing my cheek before finally reaching my chin where it briefly settles. Gradually, this tickling sensation becomes more and more intense, giving me an urgent desire to scratch.

I eventually succumb to temptation, I scratch myself, and resume my reflection.

If the hare had not taken a break, how many times could he have completed the circuit before the tortoise finished the race? It would depend on the length of the circuit as well as the actual speed of the hare and tortoise, but even on the shortest tracks, the hare could have done, I think, up to 50 or perhaps even 100 laps of the circuit before the tortoise reached the finish line.

One second... Does this number really depend on the length of the circuit?

A vehicle approaches, its headlights shining, I dare to hope it's a taxi and raise my hand in a desperate gesture, but the car speeds by without slowing down, letting a puddle of water burst at my feet.

My shoes have barely been touched, and I doubt they are much soiled, as the water seems to be relatively clear in the puddle, so I dive back into my thoughts.

Perhaps it's difficult to keep up with the pace of a hare in life, as its frenzied running will eventually exhaust it. On the other hand, the slow step of a tortoise seems easier to sustain, but then one would have to be patient to wait for it to reach the finish line.

That will certainly depend on the length of the circuit!

Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind: I realized that the drop that had fallen on my face was not so insignificant after all. It was actually the sum of several raindrops that I had ignored and that had accumulated in my hair. This drop, thus produced, forced me to scratch my chin.

After all, every small gesture, every tiny action, can come together to form a coherent and meaningful whole.

Finally, I see a taxi approaching, its lighted sign clearly visible.

It stops, I get in, and off it goes on the road.

I begin to contemplate the road, thinking that my shoes haven't really been soiled. This clean, smooth road, like a red carpet, leads me majestically to the station to hear that the train has left.

If only that puddle hadn't been there...

Wait... who on earth dug such a deep hole in this beautiful road?