Clouds

Every single day she would sit there by herself perched up on her chair outside her porch. She sat there looking up at the clouds.

The clouds harboured memories. The clouds see and record everything under the sun, they know everything. Every cloud was like a device that streamed real-time visual images.

She smiled occasionally as good memories transmitted and sometimes she would cry in silence. She would see faces in the clouds and remember all her loved ones that had died, she was the only one left.

In her younger years she was convinced that she didn't want children because they would slow her down... Regrets, regrets, regrets... "Death is inevitable but not living while you are still alive is worse than death" she always thought to herself.

Sometimes the clouds would clear up revealing clear blue skies, she would wait all day and all night until they returned.

Sometimes the clouds would ooze rain draining them of the worst memories. She loved seeing them turn bright orange as they reflected the sun or when the rainbow adorned them with pretty colours after a good rain fall.... hmmmm that sweet smell of petrichor as the ground got wet.

As youngsters we often don't notice the beauty all around us but the older we get the more we appreciate the tiny buzzing of bees, the peaks of mountains, the smiles on strangers faces and the splatter of rain as it fell from the heavens.

She sighed for no cloud made an appearance on that fateful day... The following day clouds put on an amazing show outside of her window but there was no spectator, she did not wake up that morning to see the amazing gathering of the clouds.

She died a sweet old lady with stories to share but no one to tell them to...sweet sweet old lady, she died clutching on to a book about clouds and a smile on her face, she heard that when one died they walked on clouds She was anticipating that moment - Menzi Buthelezi