A Cloud Story
I saw a cloud Friday evening. It had the shape of a leaf, standing on end. I could see veins and the midrib. It was hanging mostly alone in the sky just over the big oaks that live in my neighbor’s yard bordering the fence on the western edge of the back lots. The sky to the right of the leaf cloud was empty. The sky to the left had a light touch of clouds, undefined, wispy, and thin, blowing away in the wind.
I watched the leaf cloud for a bit and then turned to leave because I knew the wind would blow and the shape would go, and nothing would be left for me to enjoy. I thought it best to leave while the image was still sharp in the sky, and I wouldn’t have to see the beauty destroyed, wiped away. I would always see a leaf in the shape of a cloud. A nice memory to carry around as I made my way through the world.
I think the same idea holds true for relationships. They drift through your life in various shapes and sizes, and every once in a while, one really catches your attention. You admire it, want to hold it close, hope it never goes. Sometimes you get lucky. Both of you catch the same breeze. Usually, however, the currents are crossing, shapes are changing, everyone drifts apart, and so it’s best simply to look away before an ill wind blows, which is what can happen if you fight it. But the passing and looking away is okay because beauty is still beautiful, and we’re lucky to have it or see it, no matter how brief the encounter. Besides, if you fail to keep your head up you might never see another cloud pass by. And that’s something to consider.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale