Whisk Away

It was a windy day as the leaves were being whipped and tossed around the courtyard. A lone middle-aged man, balding as was apparent from the shiny head, looked up at the blue sky. He wore a red and black shirt and jeans with a black belt, his brown shoes firmly placed on the ground and parallel to one another. His back was slightly hunched, but his focus was strictly bound to the sky. The trees bent slightly as the wind tried it’s best to move them but they would stand as they have for millennia before and would for millennia ahead. Silent guardians of the courtyard four trees surrounded the courtyard and spread the delicate pink petals across the concrete and strips of grass near the walls. 

The courtyard itself was surrounded by all sides with the four-story building and it’s windows. Whoever was unlucky enough to get a window towards the courtyard would regret it, but on the spring days such as that day where the flowers danced upon the ground and the petals bathed it in a pinkish hue, it was gorgeous. But not to all, it would seem. The man who sat on one of the benches that were flanking the trees - one bench in every direction, north, east, south and west - was alone as he kept his head skyward. A colleague of the man entered the courtyard and approached where he sat with his food in his hand within a plastic and air-tight container. The two men were colleagues.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The younger man asked, wearing a T-Shirt and jeans as well, but no belt. He had sandals on and socks upon his feet, his long unkempt hair was slightly greasy. If it hadn’t been clear until now, he worked in the IT department in the building that surrounded the courtyard that was situated near a bus station which was easily accessible but just near the city limits within a collective of suburbs. A quiet town for quiet people and if you didn’t keep to yourself, everyone else would know.

“No, not at all,” the middle-aged man continued to stare upwards, slightly squinting as he slowly leaned back on his hands. His gaze did not give up, he continued to look up even as the younger man sat down and calmly opened the plastic container. Wordlessly they sat next to one another. A familiarity that was only acquired after time, a silence given to those one trusts and is not questioned. No fillers needed, no smalltalk was to be found with these two men. They knew of one another and worked cordially in their environment. They thrived in their own lanes, unperturbed by the nuisances that life may bring. A lady bug on the elders fingers? No bother, as it explored the tips only to disembark as it ventured onward. The younger ate and enjoyed the food that he had prepared himself. He prepared everything himself, if it had not been obvious from his choice of clothing or lack of hygiene, but he was proud of it. He had only recently left his parents’ home and was making it out in the wide world himself. The elder helped him where needed and they were supportive of one another.

Yet, it was not the support that was spoken aloud. Softly, gently, they wandered within the walls of the building and supported one another in tasks. Silent agreements that were made based upon assumptions of how they acted towards one another. A nod here, a curt smile there. It was clear that there was respect between the two, but barely a word spoken aloud uttering those exact words. Perhaps in another time frame in human history these two men would be rivals bound by village connection, or perhaps one day their descendants would be at one another’s throats for some geopolitical situation beyond their current comprehension. Yet at that point in time in this place in history and within the galaxy, they were at peace.

The younger finished eating and laid his container aside and looked over to the elder. The silence was broken.

“You have been looking up a while, is there something to see?” The younger asked.

The elder smiled knowingly “Always.”

The wind whipped an assortment of petals past them and the younger looked up to the sky. A gaggle of clouds hurried past the sky and gave way to a few streaks. Little lines of clouds that seemed to be chasing one another. A few more moments passed until the sky was very blue. They both looked down and their eyes met. The elder smiled and continued.

“I enjoy looking at the clouds. They are peaceful.”

“Peaceful? How so? They’re just water.”

The elder smiled and nodded “So are we, we are of water. The clouds are like us, everything around us is just like us. Bacteria and cells all dancing an endless dance. Up here, down there, in between. We all dance the dance of life given to us by water.”

The younger raised a brow “Dance of life?”

“Yes, water is all around us, even in the air now. I love to look at the clouds because they remind me that everything comes, but everything goes too. This spot here, I can look up and then the walls of the building frame the clouds perfectly. It’s like looking into a screen, you see? Look.”

The younger looked up and followed his gaze. Indeed the blue sky was framed neatly by the roof of the building as the four sides of the building met one another in a square stage. Upon the stage the clouds danced across the sky, giving way to turtles, fingers, foxes, cars and whatever else the mind could imagine. Just as quickly they came, they would go, especially on a day like this.

“What do you think that one looks like?” The younger asked, pointing upward. It was the only one within the frame, but he pointed all the same.

“Hm, I think it looks like,” the elder squinted. “An octopus!” and the younger smiled “It does!”

The octopus dangled through the sky only to fall apart into many little pieces before vanishing outside of the frame. Again the sky was cloudless and the elder gave a sigh.

“It is peaceful. The clouds above don’t judge us, even though they are higher. They are always changing, always moving. Just like we are in life, we always continue, always carry on, always changing. Nothing stays the same. Just like this frame,” the elder pointed upward now with his left hand, framing it with his index finger and thumb. “It comes…” he held it up as an airplane shot through the frame, it’s engines creating a whirlwind behind it and creating a cloud of it’s own before shooting off out of the frame. 

“And goes…” the elder lowered his hand. He slapped his legs and got up to leave. He turned to the younger and beckoned him “Shall we? Back to the grind.” But the younger shook his head, looking straight up at the clouds. Another entered the frame.

“I will just stay a bit longer.” He replied and the old man nodded and walked away. His steps pattered away quietly and the younger smiled as he saw a cloud that just at that moment in time, and never again would ever be seen again in that form, created the shape of a heart.