a contemplation of clouds
There is nothing so ephemeral as a cloud. It reinvents itself with every passing second, always moving forward, never looking back. Since my early childhood, I've peered upward in awe of the mesmerizing show dancing across azure skies...or heavenly palettes of powdery blue or steely gray or blended swirls of fiery sunset hues. Sometimes clouds take the form of long-tailed dragons or frolicking dogs. Other times, the fluff above might resemble an axe-wielding bunny on the back of a rollerblading rhinoceros. You never can tell with clouds or, for that matter, the negative space between them. They can morph into anything, into everything, into nothing discernible at all. They exist in the moment, for the moment, yet it can take decades, if not an entire lifetime, for humankind to learn to do the same.
Clouds are pretty darn smart for amorphous, vaporous masses with no measurable level of cognition. They can paint quite the picturesque horizon as well.
In recent years, I've been on a cloud-like journey. I no longer dwell on the past. I worry less about what the future will bring. I've already reinvented myself numerous times in my life; I imagine I will continue to do so, to learn and grow and evolve into hopefully better and better versions of the person I'm meant to be. Should that also result in me wielding an axe like that billowy bunny one day, I assure you the sharpened implement will only be employed on the wood pile. Like a rollerblading rhino, I embrace whatever moment I happen to be living, even if I'm dusting shelves or washing the dishes. A little household drudgery is nothing that can't be made brighter with comfortable earbuds and just the right playlist.
,Our Mother's Day was all about embracing the moments. Our skyward view was the brightest blue, and the clouds bloomed and spread and transformed before our eyes, as our latest plantings will continually do throughout the coming months. For many years, it has been our tradition to gather colorful annuals and sink their waiting roots into the cool, damp soil of the pots around our deck and garden patio. I love a beautiful garden or a comely array of potted flowers, but I do not have an affinity for dirt. Dennie, on the other hand, loves all aspects of gardening, merrily digging, planting, and tamping all afternoon. Maisie settled into her happy place as well, lazing in the sunshine, inhaling the varied scents carried on the breezes and watching with wonder as little white butterflies flitted to and fro. And me? Well, I am an incurable shutterbug. As Dennie and I chatted about everything and nothing, as Maisie and I played and bonded, I photographed them both. I snapped pictures of the flowers too. And I did what the clouds themselves could never accomplish: I froze their formations in time with the simple click of my camera.
As the day wound down, as we fell into a companionable silence, I settled onto the middle cushion of our darling new porch swing and permitted myself a luxury I haven't had in a very long time. Swaying back and forth, back and forth at a soothing rhythm, I did not work or think about work, I did not tackle a to-do list or expend my energy on anything more than a little self-care. I relaxed on the swing, opened the book I'm currently reading to the place where I'd last left it, and lost myself in chapter after chapter after chapter. It was pure bliss, as the rest of the day had been as well.
When we finally began gathering our things to head indoors for the evening, I glanced up at the sky one more time. The clouds had shifted, as clouds perpetually do, and I snapped my final photo of a late-Sunday sky. I hadn't noticed it when I took the picture. Then I transferred my Mother's Day souvenirs to my computer, and there they were: a reindeer and a polar bear. That whole lack-of-cloud-cognition thing prevents me from believing the vaporous masses themselves were sending me a message, but wouldn't it be so much more fun to say that they were, that it was a sign you should definitely read this book? After all, what would Happily Ever Antlers be without the wisdom of the reindeer and a gregarious family of polar bears? Perhaps that sky was also a sign of something more. Perhaps a splendid day of family time and relaxation and character-evoking clouds was just the pick-me-up I needed to dive back into the writing of my next exciting novel.
It was a beautiful Mother's Day here at the Fitzgerald residence, as I hope it was for you and every last Norpolean too.