Clouds Blush Pink Against The Blue

Every summer evening, there was something about her window that called Mia to gaze out into the sky until that magical moment when heaven would be alive. It was her favourite time, sometime after sunset when the sky was still blushing from the gentle pink of an orange sunset, but the shades of blue in the atmosphere were already disappearing. This was like magic for Mia, a short and glorious reminder that each day would be a gift, this time wrapped in the tints of the evening.

Mia was a dreamer of the kind who found the smallest things beautiful. Sometimes, her family teased her for being so enamoured with something as ordinary as clouds, but to her, it was nothing but ordinary. These evening skies reminded her of her grandmother, who always loved sunset-watching with her. They would sit side by side on her grandmother's porch, wrapped in blankets even on warm nights, just to see the transformation of the sky. It was like nature's lullaby, her grandmother would say, watching the clouds soften in colour as the world grew calm.

But Grandmother had left, and sunsets were no longer just what Mia loved; they'd become bitter-sweet. The colours took her breath away, but there was also the ache quiet reminder of the space she had left behind. However, Mia never missed a single evening, and found solace in the sky and how it seemed to remember with her.

One evening, her little brother Ben came to stand with her at the window. She thought he was ignoring her, shuffling his feet and looking around; then he was staring just as intently as she out the window. "Why do you look at the sky every night?" he asked, his voice small.

Mia smiled and draped her arm over him. "It's because every night's different, Ben. Kind of like a painting constantly changing. And reminds me of Grandma. She would just love these colours.

Ben nodded thoughtfully, his head resting against her shoulder. They sat there, watching the sky change colours at night, turning from blue to soft pink. They sat in complete silence, yet shared something between them that Mia couldn't explain. Just by sitting there, it was as if Ben knew she clutched her love and memories tight.

But every evening the ritual was silent: every night Ben sat beside Mia by the window watching the sunset. The quiet beauty of that pink cloud calmed her so much, as if in the colours of the evening, somehow, her grandmother was with them.".

One evening, when the clouds turned pinker than Mia had ever seen them, Ben surprised her by pulling out a small notebook. "I wrote something," he said, his cheeks red as he flipped to a page. "About the sky."

Mia's heart swelled as she read his words, simple yet heartfelt: The clouds blush pink, like Grandma's favourite flowers. It's like she's painting them, just for us.

Tears pricked her eyes as she drew him tight. "Beautiful, Ben. Grandma would have loved it." She could feel her grandmother's warmth in that moment, as if she were there with them, smiling at how they'd kept her memory alive.

From that time, Mia stopped looking at the sky alone, and those evenings were no longer something bad because she was joined by Ben, and joy rediscovered its place. These pink clouds against the blue became the symbol of connection reminding one that love lives on even after the dearest people we loved have gone.

With the endless weeks of summer, Mia knew that someday Ben would have his memories and reasons to look up at the sky. But now they had themselves, their blushing clouds, and the gentle understanding that some moments, however brief they are, hold enough beauty to last a lifetime.