Driving out in the backcountry of Madison County, Alabama, near where I live, never disappoints. Just ahead and to my left across a field on a straight country road, the clouds had parted. Sun slivers filtered down through them like a scene from a science fiction movie. For a moment, I imagined being lifted up, joining a congregation of aliens who would send me back with all my superpowers revealed—everything suddenly feeling possible. Another thought that crossed my mind was the age-old reminder: behind every dark cloud, there’s a silver lining. It’s a comforting, almost cliché notion, but one that always gives me hope.
Yet, as I pondered these whimsical ideas, I couldn’t help but hear the voice of an old friend in my head, the one who would often point out, with a smacking of their lips, “They’re just clouds.” And maybe that’s true—maybe that’s all they are. But sometimes, I believe it’s about what we choose to see. Those clouds could be just that, or they could be the start of a story that feels as big and strange as the universe itself. It’s all in how you look at it. In the end, it’s not about whether those clouds are just clouds or something more. It’s about how we choose to see them or peel ourselves from the harsh reality of an overstuffed existence. Life is full of just ordinary moments, the mundane that we all pass by without a second thought. But within those moments, if we allow ourselves, there’s room for wonder, magic, and connection. Some cultures refer to these events as omens, others as divine whispers. It’s like the space between the clouds and the sunlight—there’s something in that gap, a glimpse of possibility, if we’re open to it.
So, maybe we’re all given little opportunities to “see” beyond the scene. Sometimes it’s a patch of light breaking through, other times, it’s simply choosing to imagine what’s not immediately visible. The mundane, when seen with the right eyes, can become something far more extraordinary. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the real magic.
Notes of A Native Son 