I was perfect when I was in the clouds.
I would run, weightless, bouncing from cloud to cloud, showered in drops of sunlight feeling as though thousands of warm smiles were falling on me.
Sometimes I would have a race with the clouds, trying to bounce off one before it moved too far; other times I would relish the cotton candy fluff under my feet. If I sat too long, I would slowly start to sink, wisps of cloud slipping through my fingers, no help in at all in lifting me back up.
When I was ready I would glide slowly to rest upon the nearest treetop, small pieces of cloud between my hands and feet, protecting me from a harsh fall.
Reality would slowly settle in around me wherever I sat but it always felt like a gentler reality – an unintentional childhood meditation, I suppose.
It wasn’t until walking through a park this morning by myself, looking at the beautiful sky above, that I realized how long it’s been since I let myself return to the clouds; how long it’s been since I let myself be wrapped in the warmth and serenity of the sunlight, not forcing myself to stay grounded. But as I walked breathing in the beauty of the trail that spread out before me I started to picture my children running ahead. How desperately I wanted them with me, to feel their arms around my neck or hear the words ‘mommy, will you cuddle me?’
I started taking pictures of the clouds, the sun pushing its way through, but my mind kept going back to my kids. I had looked so forward to a bit of alone time, yet, desperately wanted the kids with me again as soon as they weren’t.
I smiled, as I began to recognize that it’s not that I’ve been missing the clouds all this time – I’ve been living among them. My kids elevate me skyward, as does my husband. It’s just that instead of the cotton candy silkiness of the clouds between my toes, it’s Lego. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.