When I was little I used to think the clouds were big balls of cotton wool that god put in the sky. I thought that rain was God’s tears. I wondered why he cried so much in England, while his smile made the world warm in other places.
It was strange I thought that no matter how far you ran you could never catch the edge of a rainbow. I loved rainbows. They always made me smile. When I saw birds flying I used to think how lucky they were to be able to touch the sky. Touch all the colours of the rainbow. I thought of their wings skimming the surface and making ripples, just like the sea.
My cousins and I would spend hours throwing stones as high as we could then squinting to sea if they would make ripples in the sky. I think maybe somewhere deep down I knew there was no chance, but believed anyway. It’s funny what you think.
When the sun’s rays poured in through the window, I could almost see God fingers were reaching in trying to touch us. I thought how lonely it must be up there. Sitting for all of time.
Time. The word gave me a strange feeling. That even when we are all gone. The stars, planets and universes-time will still go on. Even if it only exists in an inky blackness of nothing.
How I was told that God was everywhere. That he was with us all the time. I could never get my head round that. That God could be with me sitting in church, then at home with me too.
The older i got, the more i had to look around me and take things in. I couldn't rely on other people's stories. Memories. Imaginings. And in the end I realised that God was always crying. And his tears always fell on us...