Looking Up

You Never Know What Will Be Coming Down

10–22–18 — photos by author

Look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now

Look at where we are,

Look at where we started…

Lin-Manuel Miranda, from That Would Be Enough, Hamilton the musical

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Keep a fire burning in your eyes,

Pay attention to the open skies

You never know what will be coming down

by Jackson Browne, from For a Dancer

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I’d stopped at the supermarket to pick up some grapes, bananas, oranges, fresh flowers for Kathy (I try to keep the vase on the dining room table filled with fresh flowers, because I know she loves that — anything I can do to make her day a little bit brighter, makes mine just a little more brilliant), and knew I’d be finding a few other things while there. I parked way on the other end of the parking lot, like I do when I go alone. This is one of the many tricks I employ to keep my daily average of 10 K steps alive. I’ve now maintained that average for over 11 months — it will be a year on November 17th. Keep on walking!

A shot I caught last week, on an overcast fall day — loved this sky

So, I’m making my way to the market, when I see this lady looking to the sky, with her I-Phone pointed skyward, so I looked up — it was a brilliant sky in the gloaming. “Great sky!” I said as I strolled by her. “It truly is”, she sighed. Then I remembered — I have a phone, too. I stopped, looked up, clicked a couple shots, then went on about my business.

One of the gifts I received while Mom was dying, six years ago, was I started noticing the sky. Like, all the time. Cloud formations — the vastness of it. It really called to me. I remember one time, driving Mom home from a doctor’s appointment, when I looked up, and that South Carolina sky was just so beautiful, I had to pull the car over to the shoulder of Rt. 17, and click off a few shots of it. Mom was tickled silly.

Same day as last one, different angle

It was like this new discovery, for me. I think what tickled her was my discovering that sky. She’d been noticing it for years. Some of us just take a little longer than others to learn what’s important in life.

Skies are important. Looking up is important. Taking walks, every day, is important. Skies have been calling me ever since that summer with Mom, her last.

I always think of it as a parting gift Mom left for me. Whenever I look up, I remember her. Not in a longing, hurting way. I remember her wonder at life. She would often say, “Isn’t it an interesting time to be alive, Pete?” She really meant it, too. She watched the news a lot, and would keep me on my toes about world affairs. She liked to talk about what was going on, and wanted to know my perspective, from inside Washington.

South Carolina sky, from one of Mom’s last days on the beach, 2012. Shortly after this shot, we both got drenched — and loved it!

Nowadays, my wife keeps me on my toes about what’s going on. I’m not a news junkie, and could go weeks without paying much attention to world affairs. I’m lucky to have someone who pays attention. I don’t obsess over it, but I do keep an awareness about it. One should know.

But, the more important news for me, each day, is the nature of that sky. I like to watch.