Streams of Milk

I used to pretend that the merging and parting of clouds were the Gods of the skies, fighting. Rain and thunder and snow and sun were the falling dust they sent flying. Streams of milk up above would migrate from one side to the other, travelling to places unknown. Maybe heaven.

I was staring at the sky on Monday, in all of its patchy wonder. Silky swirls drifted from east to west as I observed from the ground below. 24 degrees Celsius out, partly cloudy. Cirrus clouds moved like wind blowing. Altocumulus ones looked like popcorn, not fully cooked.

And then I saw it. Sandwiched between these balls of fluff was this thing; white-hot, a somewhat hazy ball. In the middle of the day, there was another star in the sky.

He said he’d come back, but I didn’t think it would be like this.

Eyes squinting, I laid on my back to face it. I spoke.

“Hello? Are you there?”

The spot remained floating still, unmoved against the traffic of cloud that covered, revealed, then covered it again. By around six in the evening, it was gone.

+++

On Tuesday, we were sat at the TV and I told her what I saw. I offered her to cloud gaze with me the next day. She said she was busy.

I’d always thought that they were the stuff of movies. I wondered if she saw it that way too.

I told her goodnight and I love you and left her, the screen’s reflection glistening in her eyes. I laid in bed, toes dancing; wondering what I’d say, what he’d say.

+++

There was a light drizzle on Wednesday, but I still went out, determined to catch my bulb of light again. And there he was; a mellow shine, but a shine regardless. I said hi. Then I saw lightning in the corner of my eye and almost left my body behind, I ran so fast. Hiding behind the sliding glass door, I wiped falling beads of rain from my forehead; watching as the light was swept away with the incoming tide of grey.

That had to have meant something.

+++

Thursday rolled around, and so did the clouds. They came in droves, this time as dark as I’d ever seen them. I chewed the inside of my cheeks as I stepped out with my umbrella, making sure not to hold the metal part.

“Ummm…”

Wind battered the underside of my umbrella, and it was struggling not to turn into an inverted mushroom. Hot wind, like a broken fan.

I forgot what I was going to say. All I could do was stare at the blaze with my mouth gaping wide, moving without words.

It must’ve doubled in size since yesterday. Fiery and fierce; the protagonist with the sun as its supporting best friend. I went back in, having said nothing, wiping beads of sweat from my forehead.

+++

I saw it that night. No less brilliant. It might have grown a few. I ran outside in a loose shirt and torn pyjama shorts. Bare feet intertwining with blades of grass, I yelled at the sky.

What, where, why, why, why…

“What the hell is all of this supposed to mean? What do you want me to do, huh? God, just do something!”

At that point, I wasn’t sure who I was talking to.

But whoever this was had done a great job of sending me a message that was as cryptic as it could get.

+++

I woke up at around three on Friday; night had become day. I found a sleep mask that I got aboard an airline, nestled tightly in the far corner of the drawer.

I stretched my hands, felt for it and, I almost –

Shards of royal blue had been flung across the room, but most of the ash had made its way to the underside of the cabinet it fell from. I chewed the inside of my cheeks.

I yelled for her, not sure what to say when she got there.

Hey, sorry I broke the urn, his ashes are kind of everywhere.

Hey, maybe this is a good thing; a new season, right?

Hey, if I told you that I knocked over my father’s urn while trying to get something from the cabinet, would you still love me?

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“No, it is.”

She brought out the dustpan and dusted it, as if it were, well, dust.

“Stop crying, Imani.”

She poured the ashes into a shallow bowl and began picking the ceramic from the grey.

“You know, I was thinking, maybe it’s time to, you know, spread them? I know it hasn’t been long, but I don’t think – “

I was still crying.

“I don’t think it should end here, just sat on top of the cabinet. I think he’s feeling a change of scenery.”

+++

We laid beside the creek on Sunday, the sound of water trickling in our ears as we stared at the sky.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she said, “that comet was so bright it got through the curtains.”

I saw it coming, then fading. As the blaze reached nearer, getting brighter, I thought it was going to hit us; but then it dwindled. I thought it’d be back by morning or something, but all that was there was the swirl of white mixing with the sun’s warm rays. As it was.

“So that’s it,” I said.

“Huh?”

“It’s just… he didn’t answer me or anything, he just, what, orbited the earth and left?”

“I guess.”

It was so close; I could see it with my own eyes, I tried to reach out and touch it –

But the distance between us was night and day and space; the comet decided that was too far.

“I think that’s okay.” She said.

“Why?”

“Sometimes you just have to know when to leave. Nobody likes a loiterer.”

She got up, took the lid off, and began sprinkling his ashes into the stream. When most of it had trickled down, she hit the side of the container to get the rest out.

When she finished, she settled back down next to me. Channels of water became veins carrying blood as it flowed away, away. It would go to the heart and have new life breathed into it, the process then repeating itself until the stream went dry.

“I must admit,” she began, “lately, I’ve been praying with my eyes open.”

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if he couldn't see us through the clouds.