I love clouds. There’s just something about them that has always intrigued me. Their shape, their size, how they become what they are, their types, just everything.
So one day I decided to adopt one for myself. It was one of those afternoons where the sky was what one may describe as ‘gloomy,’ but I think are some of the best days of all.
I went out under my tree and looked into the sky. There were so many different kinds of clouds, I simply wasn’t sure how I would manage to pick just one cloud. They were all so beautiful.
Eventually I found the one. The one. I knew as soon as I saw it. My heart leapt and it felt like the all air had left my body.
It was the perfect soft shape, big, but not too big. Curved at the edges, almost like a drawing, but three dimensional. It was was shaded perfectly. It almost looked like a perfect painting. Like it belonged in a museum.
I took a mental picture, I took it all in. I stared for what felt like hours. My own cloud. The wind was slow and calm, so it didn’t move very far. Almost as if it were staying for me. Like it knew it was mine.
That moment of blissful connection between me and my cloud was cut short by a raindrop on my hand. Then another. Then one more, until it became a steady rain.
My heart sank, and my throat tightened. I wanted to cry. My cloud was melting with the rain. It would soon be gone.
I bit back the overwhelming emotions, and watched my beautiful cloud vanish. My heart ached and I closed my eyes. Thinking of what it had looked like.
Trying to make sure the image would remain forever in my mind.
When I finally opened my eyes, the rain had stopped, and the sky was nearly clear, except a few final whisps, and to my astonishment, a rainbow. I was struck by the beauty of it.
My cloud had changed into this rainbow. Like my cloud was sending me a message. My perfect little cloud telling me that it knew how I felt for it.
What a perfect day.