The Cloud Parade

The picnic was a last-minute idea, born from a rare free Sunday and a cooler full of leftovers. Mara suggested the hill near the old orchard, and no one argued. Not even Jace, who usually tried to escape family outings by disappearing behind a video game screen.

They packed sandwiches, fruit, and three worn blankets. Grandpa Eli brought a kite shaped like a phoenix, claiming the winds there were magic. Everyone laughed, but no one said no.

The hill welcomed them with waving grasses and wide skies. It wasn’t steep, just high enough to feel above things. The trees below whispered secrets to the breeze, and above them stretched an endless blue dome, dotted with clouds that looked like pulled cotton and forgotten dreams.

Mae and Jace threw themselves onto the blanket immediately. Mara unpacked the food, while Eli wrestled with the kite string.

Then the clouds began to change.

At first, it was subtle—a puff shifted into a perfect horse. Then a dragon. Then a train. All in sequence, as if someone was flipping pages in a sky-bound picture book.

“Okay,” said Jace, sitting up. “That’s… new.”

“I told you,” said Grandpa Eli with a grin. “Magic winds.”

They watched as more clouds took shape: a dancing bear, a castle with fluttering flags, a family of ducks walking in single file. Each formation held for just a few moments before unraveling back into mist.

Mae whispered, “It’s like a parade made just for us.”

And that’s what they called it—the Cloud Parade.

They spent the afternoon watching shapes drift by, calling out what they saw and imagining backstories for each one. The blanket became their front-row seat to wonder. Even Mara lay back eventually, a strawberry in one hand and her other resting lightly on Jace’s foot.

For a few perfect hours, time forgot to move forward. No deadlines, no screens, no errands. Just sky stories and sandwich crumbs.

As the sun began to lower, one final cloud passed overhead: a group of figures holding hands, their arms raised together, walking in a wide arc across the sky.

“Us,” Mae said softly.

They all looked.

Yes. It did look like them.

That night, when they got home, Jace didn’t reach for his game. He just stared out the window, eyes scanning the darkening sky, as if hoping the parade might go on a little longer.

And maybe it did—just out of sight.
Still marching.
Just for them.