The Clouds That Once Knew My Name

Back then, I used to sit alone a lot. Not out of anger at anyone, not out of loneliness. I just... liked it that way. An old stone bench in the schoolyard, young grass beneath my feet still bent flat from the rain, the lisping chirp of baby birds in my ear, and ahead of me — a deep blue sky, with a few clouds drifting quietly as if lost in thought. I used to sit like that. For a long time. No phone. No talking. Just a book I'd finished reading at some point, resting quietly on my lap. I wasn't in any hurry to do anything else. Just... feeling. Feeling the wind slip through the gaps between the leaves. Feeling the warm sun brush against my cheeks. Feeling the way the world kept turning, even as I sat there, so still. Back then, I didn't know what to call that feeling. I only knew… it made my heart feel wider, like a window thrown wide open, letting the wind, the clouds, the birds, the trees, and all that stillness pour in. Now, I still like sitting alone. But rarely do I have enough time — or enough quiet. Mornings are for chasing deadlines. Noon for meetings. Afternoons for clocking in and out. Evenings stuck between traffic and honking horns. The whole day plays out like a film on fast-forward — I sit there, my head full of thoughts, but my heart... empty. I miss the old days — the days when just sitting beneath dew-soaked leaves was enough to hold the whole world in my heart. Maybe you've been like me too: Once felt so "close" to nature, to the grass and trees, to the white clouds. Once believed this world was beautiful enough to keep a child sitting for hours without ever growing bored. If you're rushing now too, if you're feeling worn thin, then try... stopping for a moment. Look up at the sky. You don't need to think about anything. Just... look. Because somewhere up there, a cloud is drifting by, and a "peaceful" version of you — is still sitting there, waiting for you to come home.