We are driving back from meeting her first grade teacher when my daughter cries out, "Mom! Look at that cloud! It's shaped just like a heart."
I glance quickly out the side window as I navigate the road. "Oh, yeah," I say softly, not really looking hard because I know that often the shapes in clouds are meant for only one viewer. My answer, initially, is a lie meant to let her know that I'm listening without causing me to nearly crash the car trying to see what she does.
Then, right before I look away, I see it. A single cloud, big and puffy, in the perfect shape of a heart. "I think it's shining love down onto all of us," says The Nugget. I smile. She is so kind hearted. As we turn a corner she wiggles in her seat, twisting and turning to keep the heart in her line of sight. Already, part of the edge is drifting apart. "I never want it to go away!" she cries.
"Well, honey, clouds dissipate. That's just what happens."
How I needed this lesson this night. This week. This lifetime. Clouds dissipate. It has been a tough week for me. I have been feeling raw and sensitive. I have struggled to find my voice in so many ways. A very old friendship has been floundering and I still don't know if it will be saved. My other daughter's birth mother criticized me in a public forum. All of my favorite people keep leaving from work. I've been swimming in the deep end of race and racism. My heart has been heavy. I have been stress eating and not sleeping and I am tired and somewhat grumpy. But then I get this message from the sky.
A heart will shine on you for a while. It may change. It may grow or look different. It may block the sun for a while. Perhaps it will come back again, perhaps it will move on for good. But it will not block the sun forever.