Northeastern Skies

For most of the day, I found the sky to be incredibly odd.

Since Thursday or so, it’s been overcast, cool and a bit breezy — three things which make me really happy.

Today the breeze was still lingering, but the overcast skies had given way to bright blue ones, save for the pure white, low clouds which sped by overhead. There was something about the light in the sky that made it seem like I should’ve been in another part of the country — namely the northeast.

My brief time in Connecticut was spent doing much driving when I wasn’t traveling for work. I’d drive up 95, down 95, up the Hudson River along Route 9, I think. The area was incredibly beautiful, and one of the things that will always stick with me is the way the light looked during the morning, afternoon and evening hours. It’s something as distinct as our smog-amplified sunsets in Southern California, and as unique to that area as the big, billowing clouds are in Michigan during summer thunderstorms.

The same way a song can affect a mood, so can the sky for me. Some days when the air is still and it’s warm outside, it makes me think of the day I found out my grandpa had passed away. I remember waking up that morning and walking into the living room where my mom was busy cleaning. I can’t remember if it was a weekend or weekday, but something was odd about her being home; it was because we’d gotten the call that my grandpa had passed away. To this day, whenever there’s a warm, stuffy and still day and the light is just right in the morning sky, I find that I’m more prone to being a bit down because it takes me back.

It wasn’t until I was outside this morning that I realized the skies had a certain northeastern quality about them. I immediately remembered one day about seven years ago when I drove north on I-95 and stopped for about 15 minutes at one point to look at the water, which would’ve been Long Island Sound. The water, a glistening, deep blue was beautiful, but it wasn’t home.

The view was peaceful, but I felt otherwise.

On that day, the sky was crisp and clear, but my thoughts were clouded. I suspect that I missed the LA/OC layer of smog.

Tonight, I am thankful for the memories that a certain sky can bring back, for the experience of the northeastern sky in the comfort of my own backyard, and for the reminder that it’s true — there’s no place like home.

And now, I shall await the return of our usual layer of air pollution.

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