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Driving through the mountains of Virginia, I feel as though I could reach out and put my hand right into a cloud. How can the water vapor be so light and yet so visible? Portions look so opaque yet have edges so thin and fragile as if someone has snatched a piece of cotton candy, the ends trailing off into the thinnest wisps of sugar imaginable. The sugar melts onto one’s face mimicking the dampness felt on my face when walking through a cloud. And oh!, the problem of instantaneous hair frizz. Watching a television interview yesterday with too many ums and uhs, Jeff asked if I remembered Mr. Green’s constant corrections regarding this in speech class. Did I remember needing to restart each time a speech began with OK…? I don’t remember those words at all! He is surprised, as I usually remember so many minute details: answering obscure questions on Jeopardy, yet missing a Bon Jovi question - funny if you ever drove  to Charleston with me. My brain is foggy in parts and this must have been an opaque area. When I remember bits and pieces of something that happened, it must be the wispy parts of my cloudy brain. All I need is a little wind to blow it aside, or some sun to burn the fog away. I remember where I sat in speech class. I remember Angie sitting to my left. And I vividly remember Mr. Green saying in an elongated enunciation,  “Mr. Radke………………” after a speech which was deemed inappropriate. The class enjoyed it though. I hope the clouds never get so thick that I forget high school speech class is where Jeff and I met so many years ago.