On the flight home I sat next to a little boy, probably about four, and he told me he wasn’t afraid of anything. His friend was afraid of heights, but not him. Nothing.
Except: The Cloud People.
I told him he should write a story and change the ending; this seemed to inspire him and he said he would write a story so boring the Cloud People would stop reading it because it was so boring and then leave everyone alone.
I leaned over to his mother and told her she should be writing all this down, and she confessed it was hard to keep up with him. I gathered that. But I may have to steal the Cloud People, and write a colophon of sorts publically acknowledging this small blue-eyed muse. I am not a nice grown-up, because I have no qualms about sharing an anecdote too amazing like the Cloud People.
Now I sit and have so much to do! That was a lovely trip. The last lunch we went to the Bluebonnet Cafe, and I ate, of course, chicken fried steak and ordered two sides of fried okra, and was a bit too ambitious. I swear, I didn’t eat another thing for the rest of the day, and just digested the lunch like a python after a goat:
Before |
After |
And I wonder why I need to see a doctor about chronic issues.