Water sign without water!

There’s something incredibly frustrating about not having access to water. It’s one of those things you take for granted until it’s not there anymore. For us, the issue isn’t just the water being turned off—it's how it’s tied to our electricity. When the power goes out, the water pressure drops, and before you know it, the taps are dry, not a drop in sight. Even when the power is on, the water remains absent.

It’s annoying. So annoying, that you probably wouldn’t understand the level of frustration I feel unless you’ve been through something like this yourself. We’re now relying on bottled water for things as simple as rinsing off a pear. The 5-liter bottles? Yeah, we use those to flush the toilet. This has become our reality, and I can’t even begin to wrap my head around the state of our infrastructure. What’s going on?

On a spiritual level, water has always been a symbol of cleansing for me. When water touches my skin—whether it’s the rain, a bath, or even just the act of washing something—it’s as though I’m being washed clean, ready to see things more clearly. But now, with no water at all, it feels like there’s a blockage in that cleansing process. So, I ask myself: is it that I’m already on the right path and something deeper is waiting to unfold, or am I being denied the cleansing I need because there’s something I haven’t yet understood? I can't help but wonder if this waterless situation is a sign that there’s something I need to uncover in myself.

In the midst of all this frustration, my mind keeps coming back to the simple things I crave: a long, hot Epsom salt bath, a good shower, or even filling up Lana’s swimming pool again just to feel the water surrounding me. Instead, it feels like we’ve been understanding for far too long, accepting the endless apologies from the city, always waiting for the situation to “smooth out” but never seeing that actually happen. It’s tiring.

But even in the middle of all this, I try to focus on what I’m grateful for. Today, I’m thankful for two things: one, seeing my mother after months of not being able to spend time together, and two—water. I may not have it flowing from my taps, but I’m thankful for the water we do have, and for the gas stove that still allows us to cook. For now, I’ll head off to the dispenser to grab a few more bottles of water and thank God for our solar lights that help us get by in the dark moments. The preparation for lights and water has become routine at this point, but at least we have what we need to survive.

So, here’s to staying grateful, no matter how tedious the situation becomes. I’ll keep pushing through, knowing that one day, the water will flow freely again.

Cheers to the little things, and to the hope of better days ahead.