Cloud Watching
Meredith and Timothy are lying in the grass at the local playground. They’re cloud watching, something they’ve done since Timothy first began speaking. “Bunny,” Timothy says, extending his arm to point at an oddly shaped cloud to his left. “Looks more like a… I dunno, maybe a person.” They sit in relative silence for a long time, only breaking it to point out a cloud of a particular kind every once and awhile. The quiet is peaceful, so Meredith closes her eyes. As soon as she starts to drift off, Timothy speaks. “Can I hold the clouds in my hand?” When Timothy was first born, his father used to always joke that Meredith better look up why the sky is blue, in case he asks. Lance, Timothy’s father, liked to joke that she was stupid, because she never finished school. She didn’t need to be smart, and she didn’t need a job. Lance made the money, all she needed to do was take care of Timothy. The boy has never asked once why the sky is blue. Maybe he realizes the irony of th...