I float and I fly up in the sky, drifting along on air currents, going along with it. Looking down I see the world below. I see lives lived. I float along. Clouds form. They’re big, puffy, and white, attracting some attention, but still I float along. I haven’t done much, at least, not as much as I could. Every now and then there may be harsh winds, or heat lightning. They are rare sad or angry moments. They don’t come too often.

I fly around swaying to the wind. I enjoy my time, soaring with the wind, chasing air masses, and swimming through air currents. All the while pressure is building. Things are happening, unseen. In the pretty clouds the people see, things are happening. One day, eventually a storm will break loose and water will rain down to the world, taking me with it. It will be a wonderful storm, not a scary one. I will be on an adventure, down there, with the real me seen and known. Until then, I will remain floating in the sky with my puffy clouds.