Day 6: The Lamentable Anxiety of the Clouds

     Low-level clouds stared down at me from the sky this morning as I pulled back the curtains and gazed out the window. Behind them I could see the deep blue of the open sky, but it was obvious that these clouds were afraid of heights and could not bring themselves to rise up into the atmosphere where they belonged. I drove my car down the highway, and all the while the puffy piles of condensation skimmed the peaks of the dark green hills, sadly drifting toward the rising sun as if he could cure their fear of heights.
     I turned in to the driveway at the academy where the rows of airplanes sat waiting quietly for a pilot to guide them aloft so they could show the clouds how amazing it is to glide high above the earth. But unfortunately the clouds themselves were preventing this student pilot from flying, so the planes continued to rest patiently on the ramp as Matt and I went through a ground lesson on communicating with air traffic control.
     By the end of the two hour lesson, the gray clouds still were moping along, a mere 200 feet above the airport. Because of that, the next two hour segment, which was to be the last lesson for the weekend, was called off by Ken and myself. This left the rest of the day open open to whatever I wished to do, and I decided to make the 40 minute drive to Covington, Kentucky, where the Cincinnati airport (CVG) lies.
     During the drive, the anxious clouds began to grow taller, their tops stretching thousands of feet into the troposphere. However, they soon realized that growing taller had neither made them any farther from the ground, nor cured their phobia of heights, but instead had only caused gloom and darkness for the earthbound civilizations they passed over. Upon realizing their mistake, their anxiety was joined by deep feelings of remorse and sadness for their effect on the creatures below them. These emotions grew stronger and stronger until, no longer able to contain them, the clouds began to weep. Their tears fell bitterly to the ground, watering the earth and its inhabitants, and the sadness of the clouds was turned into a blessing.
     I parked my car in the observation area at CVG amidst the shower of tears, where I remained for several hours, watching the airliners arrive and depart and listening to their communications with the control tower. Unlike the clouds, I thoroughly enjoyed the day. As they wept, I smiled, knowing that someday they will overcome their fear and rise high above the ground, and the sunny days will return once again.