The sky was griseous.
It wasn’t meant to be a pretty day.
The overcast weather laid shadows across the land,
seemingly following us on our way to the airport.
I didn’t want to cry.
I knew if I cried, they would cry, and I couldn’t bear to see their
tears.
At the security point, I held each of them for a moment,
almost as if I thought our hearts might not meet again.
And as I walked away, my heart began to shatter. Stepping onto the escalator, the further the distance grew, the deeper my heart hurt.
I reached my gate and waited to be called to board.
It had, appropriately, begun to rain. The pattern of wet texture stretched over acres of
concrete.
It was almost whimsical.
The water danced on the grand stage and crashed against the tall walls of glass.
The sky cried so I wouldn’t have to.
I held myself, mostly because I thought I would crumble
otherwise. And I sat, alone, watching
the emotions of my heart play out before me in slate blues and muted greys.
When I thought, "My foot slips," your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up. When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul (Psalm 94:18-19).
