W3: A Day Without Water

July 12, 2025

Dear Diary,

Today was really hot. The sun was burning, and I was sweating all over. As soon as I woke up, I wanted to wash my face to cool down. I ran to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Yellow, weird-smelling water sprayed out. I jumped back, startled. Then I heard Mom shouting from downstairs, "The water is off for the whole day! That's dirty water. Don’t touch it!" I looked at the rash on my arm. It was itchy because of the sweat. I wanted to wash it, but the water was too dirty to use. Usually, mom helps me bathe every day before applying medicine. Without a bath today, my skin kept itching.

At lunchtime, my little brother drank the rest of my water bottle without asking. I was angry, also feeling upset. Mom gave us each half of her cup of water and said she wasn’t thirsty. We couldn't cook because there was no water. Mom gave us cold rice balls from last night and a banana. It was simple, but still good. Dad told us that hospitals couldn't perform surgeries because there wasn’t enough clean water to wash hands or tools. Even nurses had to take turns using hand sanitizer. My school closed for the day too. They said it was to stop germs from spreading.

In the afternoon, the sky turned gray and cloudy. It looked like it might rain soon. I stood by the window and thought, “If only we could drink the rain, or use it to shower, that would be amazing.” I ran to tell Mom my idea, but she smiled and said, “I’ve already got the buckets ready.” When I looked outside, I saw that everyone was ready, we had buckets on the balcony, and the neighbors had even more lined up in their yards. It made me feel a little hopeful, like we were all waiting for nature to help us just a bit. Not a big storm, just a light rain. The drops hit the buckets with soft plinks. The water wasn’t much, but it was enough for now. Mom used some of the rainwater to gently wipe my arms and back, trying to clean my skin just a little and stop it from getting too dry. I think I felt better.

Before bedtime, I looked out the window again. The rain had already stopped, and the buckets were only half full. Downstairs, I saw a boy about my age splashing his hands in the bucket on their porch. He was laughing, scooping water and pouring it over his feet. His parents didn’t stop him. I felt a little jealous. I wanted to do that too, even just once. But Mom already told me not to touch the rainwater too much because of my skin. “Only enough to wipe down. No playing,” she said. I pressed my cheek against the window and imagined jumping into the biggest bucket, soaking myself all the way up to my chin. Maybe in a dream, I can do that.

I quietly got out of bed and tiptoed back to the bathroom. I turned the faucet just a little, hoping maybe the clean water had come back. But it was still the same yellow water. I stared at it for a few seconds. Then I heard Mom behind me. “Go back to bed. Touch that water and you’ll make it worse,” she said. I got a little scared and didn’t say anything. She gently took my hand and walked me back to my room. She pulled the blanket over me and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before going back downstairs. Now I’m lying here again. The fan is blowing warm air across my face. My arms are still itchy. Outside, I can hear someone locking their door, and the soft sound of dripping rainwater from the roof. I don’t know if the water will come back tomorrow. But I hope I can have a bath tomorrow.

Xiaoyan