Noctilucent Clouds

One night, 4 years ago, I looked out my front door and saw something I'd never seen before—noctilucent clouds. It was about midnight, so I grabbed my camera, and Harvey and we headed to the hills. We walked through the woods trying to get to the best vantage point. Harvey was so happy—out in the woods at night was exciting. I never got a really good photo, but it was more about being out in the woods with my boy. It was late June, and the days were hot. It had cooled off a bit, so he wasn't too hot. We walked around a bunch; Harvey sniffed and explored, and then we went home and slept. 

Last night. 4 years and 3 days since the last time I saw them—there they were again. So, I grabbed my camera and headed out. It wasn't the same without Harvey being physically with me—but I knew he was headed to the car, ready for another adventure. I drove to one spot, but the view wasn't good enough, so I drove higher into the hills. I drove to our spot high up on Rose Hill. A place I used to go with my boy. A place I hadn't been to since he passed. 

The place was different in the dark and different without the sounds of Harvey's footsteps leading me up the hill. The view, as always, was amazing. The sky was clear and the wind was blowing, and I felt OK. I knew he was there with me. Looking over the valley. Watching me. Being in his happy place. 

Last night wasn't so much about the clouds, but more about continuing to do the things he and I did together. Living my life in honor of his life. Taking the lessons he taught me forward through the next chapter of my life. 

Thanks for the great day, buddy!