The sky has captured my attention for my entire life and has always been interrobang worthy.
Did you see that moon?!
Where is the blue sky?!
Why can't we recreate those colors!?
Have you ever felt this close to the stars?!
Today was no exception--pink reflected around the horizon, barely a hint in some places; blue sky directly overhead dotted with puffs of clouds; angry-looking clouds sandwiched between the blue and pink; all of this continuously moving and changing.
The sky, any sky, is a metaphor for life. This sky was my entire experience of Alaska. I realized, though, that I cannot perceive the entire sky in a single moment. I believe this to be true of my grief also. I feel like if I could bear all of it at once, I would implode or explode or disappear or [something dramatic], so I juggle pieces throughout the day:
always surrounded by Alaska love
living with joy as my daughter's mother
forever stewing with gray