Puffy Clouds

Written to my brothers and sisters in September, following our trip to Ecuador.

On a similar note (but not nearly as eloquent), flying home from Ecuador on Monday, we were approaching Miami. The plane was coming down through some puffy white cumulus clouds. These are the kinds of clouds that I, as a child, always associated with angels in heaven. After both mom and dad died, I was flying home within days. I looked at the clouds then and thought of their heavenly destination – even though I don’t expect harps, angels, and clouds – it comforted me to think of them there, somehow. On this approach, I saw the clouds and thought of mom and dad – were they together, were they content, were they at peace? And I thought I hope they are happy,where ever they may be, but it would be nice to have a sign. The logical part of my brain said “but what do you expect? to see them floating on a cloud?” Just then, a rainbow broke through and in a perfect arc, pierced my logic with such a clear message – they are well, they are at peace, they are together. And again, flying through the clouds, I cried – for our loss, for their togetherness, for the message that was sent. All is well.

Sometimes cheesy rainbows in puffy clouds are just what you need.