The sky was clear this morning. The ephemeral vapor trail left behind by a streaking jet looked like the work of a skilled minimalist painter. It was perfect.

We all leave footprints behind, reminders that we were here, we came and went, we did something, and we mattered.

Airplane pilots leave their footprints across the sky. Writers leave theirs on paper.

The next time you need to decompress find a quiet bench, a large shade tree, and wait for the planes to paint the sky. Take a good book with you. You’ll be glad you did.