I hope tomorrow is cleaner

One of the last times I visited my great-grandmother in Texas City I was struck by the sky. The sky is so fascinating because of its vastness. I love a blue sky. Baby blue, clean, no clouds, not even the vaguest hint of one. Stretching, miles, forever. The night sky is the same, but it has different nuances, different meanings, and gives me a different feeling. The last time I visited Bobbin sometime in the summer of 1995 it was cloudy. That night, I noticed how the clouds held everything in. The lights, from buildings, from the refineries, all mixing with smoke and sea breezes. It was beautiful, orange and purple and gray and black. The air was wet and salty and even a little breezy. 

I love the sky like that. It's like that in the Valley too. The breeze ruffling your hair and caressing your face. I love that. It's like God is there, and I can think a little more clearly. It was like that tonight. Some people don't like the clouds, and I have to admit they are at times menacing. At night though, I think it keeps all of the good things from the day in. It reflects progress and change and brings rain, making for a clean tomorrow.