Just a moment ago, a heavy layer of clouds covered the sky, a threatening blanket of rain. It grew dark, and the air took on that metallic quality it does when clouds get full of themselves.
And then it passed.
The clouds are breaking off into fluffy, happy bunches, bright blue peeking from above. Maybe they’ll gather themselves again, maybe they won’t, but we won’t know until it happens.
Life is like that sometimes. The specter of something can seem so ominous, but, in the end, it can amount to nothing at all. Or, other times it can deliver what it promises, winds howling, big, mean drops driving, the sky flashing and roaring. But we can’t know which it will be until it happens.
We spend so much time worrying, wondering what the clouds will do. What the sky will do. What the weather will do, when, the truth is, our worrying won’t change a single thing. It can’t and doesn’t effect the outcome.
Clouds are clouds and life is life, and you can never be completely sure what will come from either.