Mile 406. Sitting on a cloud.

Every time I fly on an airplane, my nose and forehead are pressed to the window.   Clouds are mysterious.   And inviting. 

Sitting on a cloud would make me feel weightless, I imagine.   If I want to rest my elbow, the cloud would automatically morph to cradle me just so.   If I want to walk over to the pearly gates to chat with my friends, the cloud would clear a smooth path.   While clouds are big bundles of illuminated fluff, they still are quite user-friendly and easy to navigate.   Or so I imagine.

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Views surrounding Hump Mountain bald are endless.   In the far distance, sky and mountain blend into ribbons of blues and grays.   Close by, the wind re-shapes the tall grasses into a rhythmic ballet, clusters of green in a choreographed kaleidoscope.

The view of the top of Hump Mountain, however, is a dramatic exception.   A white cloud clings to it.  It hovers.   Motionless.   Waiting.

This is my chance.   The opportunity has come to prove that imagination can come to life with belief and conviction.  

Eagerly, I charge the Trail that takes me straight up the side of the Mountain.   A direct route to the top is the fastest.   I ignore the screams from my lungs and my legs - today is my day!

And here it is.   The moment.   The ceiling where big vista ends and cloud cover begins.

With a ceremonial flare, I step up to enter. 

Wait.  Wait, wait, wait.    This is all wrong!  

No angels are greeting me.   No pearly gates are opening for me.   No bright lights are illuminating me.

Instead, my long-anticipated cloud is a heavy, damp gray.   And it’s windy - blustery billows of mist wisp by.  I have to keep each breath short, lest the wind steal my oxygen.  My view is just enough to keep me from falling without any clues as to what is coming next.

After all those years.   Disappointed.

The only way out is through.  I press forward.