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The clouds looked beautiful today. They always do from about 10,000 feet. Piled high with intricate turrets, valleys, alcoves, cul-de-sacs. Solid looking as a mountain. Tangible as ghost. But it's easy to forget that.
I'm watching the clouds from the observation deck, behind the dubious safety of an inch of plexiglass. My father is sitting outside. (Should he be having difficulty breathing? He is not.) As we climb through the castles and sky dunes, a new cloud appears before us. This one is ominous: charcoal and pitch in a sky of gauzy white and icy blue. It folds in on itself like a vast diseased brain, and it turns independently of the wind. And we are heading straight for it. I watch it spin towards us, the details and fold growing more distinct and vivid the close we get to it. It fills my vision, it becomes the entire world to me and that's when I remember my father is still sitting outside as we hit it.
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I'm watching the clouds from the observation deck, behind the dubious safety of an inch of plexiglass. My father is sitting outside. (Should he be having difficulty breathing? He is not.) As we climb through the castles and sky dunes, a new cloud appears before us. This one is ominous: charcoal and pitch in a sky of gauzy white and icy blue. It folds in on itself like a vast diseased brain, and it turns independently of the wind. And we are heading straight for it. I watch it spin towards us, the details and fold growing more distinct and vivid the close we get to it. It fills my vision, it becomes the entire world to me and that's when I remember my father is still sitting outside as we hit it.
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