I think back to the day of the great flood.  My family and I slithering through the currents. Freely flowing as we maneuvered through debris from cities long forgotten.  This was our paradise.  The world was at peace.

As time passed, the waters changed.  They began to recede. We were no longer swimming as we did.  Everything around us was dying. Our food was scarce. We understood that the  world was coming to an end and we had to accept it.  Our time here was done.

It was my last day. The water around us had disappeared. We laid there in the hot sun. It burned and dried my flesh. There were small puddles of water under us. I struggled to breathe. Each gasp for air became shorter and painful. My emotions began to take over. With each inhalation I thought about my life and my children. But I tried not to let the fear set in.  I had to be strong for my family.  We listened to the wind and to the bits of air flowing through us. I closed my eyes and with my final breaths I struggled to say some comforting words to the rest.  Nothing came out.  They became part of the desert, as did I.