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That’s the thing about flying: You could talk to someone for hours and never even know his name, share your deepest secrets and then never see him again.
In the end, it’s not the changes that will break your heart; it’s that tug of familiarity.
“And in August it will be fifty-two years together.” “Wow,” Oliver says. “That’s amazing.” “I wouldn’t call it amazing,” the woman says, blinking. “It’s easy when you find the right person.”
“Those are cumulus clouds. Did you know that?” “I’m sure I should.” “They’re the best ones.” “How come?” “Because they look the way clouds are supposed to look, the way you draw them when you’re a kid. Which is nice, you know? I mean, the sun never looks the way you drew it.”
“But it’s nice, isn’t it? When something matches up like that?” He bobs his head with a satisfied smile. “Cumulus clouds. Best clouds ever.”
After all, it’s one thing to run away when someone’s chasing you. It’s entirely another to be running all alone.
Hadley shook her head, frustrated. “That makes absolutely no sense at all.” “It’s not supposed to,” Mom said with a smile. “Love is the strangest, most illogical thing in the world.” “I’m not talking about love,” Hadley insisted. “I’m talking about marriage.” Mom shrugged. “That,” she said, “is even worse.”
cumulus. The one cloud that seems both imaginary and true all at once.
“Love isn’t supposed to make sense. It’s completely illogical.”
