Puddles of Rain

I walked down the lonely road.
After rain, it smelled refreshing.
The slight drizzle was welcome,
In these hot summer days.

There I came across a puddle,
A puddle not larger than 3 feet,
The deepness however,
I could not acquire through my gaze.

I estimated my jump,
And I jumped.
I flew for a moment, above the puddle,
For a moment I could see myself,
My face reflected on the surface.
I felt like a child, and I saw the younger me,
Happy, overjoyed, and amazed
at my airborne flight.

I landed a distance away from the puddle.
I found myself wondering,
Similar puddles were a challenge
for the younger me.
Now, I could fly above them effortlessly.
What changed? I grew up.

But then again, I thought,
Crossing similar puddles gave me excitement
And a sense of accomplishment,
When I was little.
Now, it was nothing more than a puddle.
Not a challenge at all.

If I was a child again, I would have jumped
Across the puddle a dozen times,
And still keep on jumping,
For it was a quest then, and now it isn’t.

The skill behaves similarly,
When you grow your skill,
You shall not be delighted
by solving the problems
that were hard for you before.
And it isn’t right to blame the skill,
What you need are harder problems.

And so, I set out, into the lonely road,
Looking for larger puddles to jump.