Walking along the Allegheny River, I stopped by my favorite spot. Dwelling on personal issues, I contemplated on what to do. As the river slowly flowed by around the eddy, I glanced up at the azure sky. Parallel to the land was a streak of a jet. Vertical to me was another streak of jet wash, with both forming a cross. I guess when you are looking or answers, you interpret things in any attempt for help or validation. Whatever was behind it, Providence or chance, I chose it to be a sign everything was going to be right in the end. Sometimes a cross is permanent and made of wood, sometime it can be a momentary and fleeting that disappears with no trace, like from the jets.
But it 's a symbol of something bigger and infinitely more lasting. The seasons can be like years of your life, and each season holding a special place in your memory. Life is akin to the seasons.
Some say it's akin to a parlor trick; that you are looking for a sign and anything will suffice to satisfy my search. Perhaps it's true. Despite all that, I choose faith.
