When I was a child, like all children, I stared up at the sky, at clouds passing above me. They floated like wisps of cotton candy. They threatened like boulders rolling toward a precipice. They danced. They disappeared, and reappeared. They became animals, people, playthings.
I knew clouds then. I could name them all. I gave them meaning, I whispered what they looked like to me. I saw dinosaurs, vegetables, mythical creatures all floating above me.I knew clouds then, from below.
I knew clouds from below.
But now, things have changed. I now know, and at this point it is with intimacy, clouds from above. I have seen the tops of clouds from planes and from mountain perches. And I have come to an understanding with them- for they have their own uniqueness, their own personality.
I look at clouds now, from above, and I see that familiar distinction. I see wave upon wave of oceanic ether. I see the ridged backs of dragons in the sky. I see a myriad of colors reflected by an endless horizon of vapor and oxygen and water: mango, tangerine, lemon, blue blue blue, lavender.
Many things happen when you travel as a rule. You learn to make ends meet; you learn to make conversation happen like magic; you learn to drink in, like a glutton, every moment that has meaning. Because every moment that has meaning is a treasure. Because every time I look out the window of this plane or perch at the top of that mountain, I find myself unexpectedly.
I did not know, nor could I have guessed, that this different and exceptional knowledge of clouds would come from travel. But I will drink it in.
Because that is what I do.
Until next time, Cheers Dearhearts.
No comments:
Post a Comment