The Brown Cloud

A widower and his young daughter leave the chaos of the city for life in the mountains.

The Brown Cloud

My speedometer read 98 miles-per-hour and climbing fast. The rpms were almost at redline and I was still in fifth gear. “Don’t shift just yet, just a few seconds more” I thought to myself. I knew I didn’t beat the’57 Chevy that was neck and neck with me off the starting line, and I also knew that I had caught it and was about to nose pass him, but it was slow going and the one-lane bridge was fast approaching. I have to do this precisely right or I won’t get in front of him and take the win at the bridge head. Damn this is going to be close! “Now!” I let off the throttle just enough for the transmission to slip into sixth gear only seconds from the bridge. The guardrail already veering inward to meet the bridge’s superstructure. “Good morning Daddy”. I glanced in all my mirrors then at the passenger seat, then at the bridge again. “S**t! I’m not going to make it!” Good morning Daddy”. The bridge faded into blackness. I was somewhere in between nowhere and consciousness. I felt the blankets moving across my body, then the little hands grabbing hold of anything they could grasp so that she could climb on top of me. I never minded being awoken in this manner, and as usual I pretended I was still asleep. For the next “good morning” would be a kiss on the forehead, or a nose pinch. I could never tell what kind of mood my little girl would be in. This morning it was the kiss. I popped my eyes open and stared into those big brown eyes of hers. She was an Angelic-looking three-year-old if ever there was one. Her dirty-blond shoulder-length hair was all ruffled. She must have just gotten out of bed. Her puffy cheeks, her button nose, that little chin of hers, her perfectly aligned pearly-white teeth. She was perfect in my eyes and I have trouble believing that I get to spend each and every day with this little angel. She lay prone on my stomach, her face inches from mine. So close in fact, that I found it hard to focus on her features. But I didn’t dare to break this moment. Her chin resting on both her hands, her fingers resting on her palms, her elbows digging into my chest. She stared at me like she was looking through me. Her face was expressionless but loving. One foot rhythmically thudding the bed between my outstretched legs. She was giving me a few moments to wake up. She learned that I can be a real bear first thing in the morning and as smart as she was, how’d she get so smart anyway? “Good morning Maggie”. She reached to the nightstand, I opened my mouth, she sprayed some breath spray into the “stinky cave” as she called it. I keep it there for the rare moments she awakens me in this manner. “What’s up?” “Daddy. There’s a brown cloud outside”. “What kind of brown cloud?” “A cloud that’s brown” she said, her faced never dimmed. “Is it as cute as you?” I inquired. “You said nothing is as cute as me”. “Right. Is it shaped like a rabbit?” “Nope”. “Is it shaped like a Pirate?” “Nope”. “What’s it shaped like?” Her eyes moved this way and that. Her index finger unfolded to tap the side of her face. I gave her the time she needed to search through her memory banks. Her foot stopped its bouncing up and down. I was thankful for that. She once again turned her attention to me. She folded her finger back among the others then shrugged her shoulders in perfect unison. “Where did you see the brown cloud?” I queried. “Come on, I’ll show you!” She barely got the words out of her mouth when her little legs slid off the side of the bed and landed on the floor with the daintiness of a ballerina. She pushed the covers over me far enough to grab my hand and pulled as hard as she could. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and with one fell swoop, scooped her up in my arms. That’s always preferable to doing the hunched over waddle-walk as she tugs on me leading me to some unknown place. “Where we going?” “To my window” she said. Like I didn’t know.

I built the A-frame in the hills of the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee after Maggie’s mother died. I couldn’t bear to stay in the city after what happened and I didn’t want Maggie to find out, at least for as long as possible. She would inquire soon enough, but for now I wanted to shield her from the evils of the world. I took what little insurance money I received, and had left, and after paying off the debts I owed, I bought these ten acres and set about building a retreat for my precious daughter and me. I just picked up and took off. Just the two of us. I bought the land online sight unseen. I just wanted out, and this place looked good enough, and was in the middle of nowhere. Maggie was barely walking when we arrived, but she was a quick study. I plunked her down on the leaf riddled forest floor. She looked bewildered but eagerly looked around taking in her new surroundings, her hands unknowingly stroking the leaves beneath her. She looked up at me for reassurance. I gave it to her. She picked up a leaf and gazed intently at it, then shoved it in her mouth. She looked again at me. I just stared at her. Her face turned sour and she spit out the leaf. Now she knows about leaves and their nutritional value. It was deafly quiet in the forest, but that silence was broken when a squirrel scampered from a tree and across the dried leaves to another. It immediately scurried around to the other side, a dozen feet up, and stuck its head out from the side of the tree so that it could assess the threat. Maggie watched the entire event. She looked over at me when the amazing creature was no longer in sight. “Squirrel” I said. “Skirell?” she repeated. “Yup, Squirrel”.

The cabin wasn’t much, but it was cozy, warm, and dry. One room on the main floor held the living quarters, kitchen, and bath. It was off-grid living. I built a rainwater catchment system that supplied all our water needs, and had solar cells and batteries that supplied power. No tv, no internet, no unnecessary amenities. Just the basics. It was a happy home, apart from the rest of the world. We had a garden and hunted and fished for food. And when we had to go to town for supplies, she never said much while we were there. It’s like she knew something that no one else did. She never inquired about the goings-on in town. I don’t think she wanted to know. Or rather, she did know but didn’t want to bring it up, like it would go away if she didn’t. It was easier on me that way. Not to have to inform her of what really goes on in the world. But I knew she knew. She’s the smartest person I have ever known. And she knew that if I wanted her to know, I would have brought it up. But she leaves it alone because she trusts me that much.

Upstairs was the loft for sleeping. She on one side and me on the other. She asked me if I would move her bed away from the window, make her a table and chair to set in front of it so she could take in the view. She liked to watch the sun set and watch for animals as they meandered across the property. Cloud watching was a favorite pastime of hers when there was time for such things. And the stars mesmerized her. I had to make another chair so I could sit with her and talk about the universe. She would often move off her chair to sit on my lap as the night grew long and she began to doze. More often than not, that’s how she fell asleep. In my arms. That was fine with me. She liked her window.

She looked intently to the window as we moved towards it. I could see nothing but the brightness streaming through the window as we moved ever closer. Nothing but white. I had to squint to a point where my eyes were nothing but slits. It was still early morning and the sun was still low enough in the east behind us, but still, I had just awakened and my eyes weren’t awake either. It took a moment for them to adjust. “See daddy, a brown cloud”. She pointed out the window, into the distance, and at a slight upward angle. As my pupils did their thing, I glanced back and forth scanning the horizon. Looking for the brown cloud. I didn’t see it. She looked at me with that “I wonder what he’ll do about this” look. Slowly but surely my eyes began to see the brown cloud. It was faint at first, but as my eyes got used to the light the cloud took shape, its color more defined. “That’s brown alright” I declared. “What is it?” she asked, with the inquisitive look I always get when she has to know such things. “I’m not sure”. She stared at me for a few moments waiting for a more positive answer. I had none to give. She turned her gaze back out the window and we watched the cloud, that was brown.  

She was perched on my right hip, my right forearm under her buttocks, my left arm clenching tightly my right wrist. Both her legs were wrapped around my torso, bent at the knees, both her arms around my neck, as we watched the anomaly neither of us has ever seen before. I know it’s time when she wants down when she drops her legs and loosens her grip around my neck. I let her slide down my side until her little feet touched her table top that was positioned in front of the window. She reached out for the window sash placing both her forearms and interlocked fingers atop of it. She placed her chin atop the back of her hands and stared out the window determined to catalog the new event on the horizon into the archives for future reference. And when she did figure it out, I would get to hear all about it so there was no need for me to hang around any longer. I had a long day of chores ahead of me. “I’ll go make us some breakfast” as I turned to head down the stairs that led to the main floor. She neither nodded nor acknowledged my statement. She knew there was no need to do so. She knew I knew she heard me. I asked her not long ago if she heard what I had said, because she didn’t respond that time either. “I hear everything you say to me daddy”. I never questioned her again.

I turned to place her breakfast onto her plate that was in front of her chair at the kitchen table. There she was, just like that. It’s like she appears out of nowhere. But I wasn’t startled nor was it unexpected. I knew she’d be there even though I didn’t hear a sound. She’s like that. She just knows when it’s time to be where she’s supposed to be. And she’s as quiet as a mouse. She’s well practiced because of all the hunting and fishing we do. I swear that girl could sneak up on a deer foraging for nuts under the fall leaves in the forest. One day I’ll let her satisfy my curiosity about that fact, but not today.

With breakfast done and the dishes being washed by me and dried by her, we did so in relative silence. As I handed her the last plate, I broke the silence. “I’m going to go get that fallen tree that we saw yesterday.” She didn’t say anything. I knew just what that meant. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to”. Her silence remained. She wanted more study time on the brown cloud and wanted my permission to do so. “There’s not much to do around the house so you can come if you want to”. The permission was given. Still nothing. “Ok then, I’ll be back within the hour”. She leaned over and gave me a big hug, leaped off the chair, pushed it back to the table, and was up the stairs in seconds, and with barely a sound. As I reached for the doorknob her dainty voice called from above “I love you daddy!”.

I gathered an old logging chain that I found in the forest a year or so ago, along with the chain saw, and placed them into the cargo carrier on the four-wheeler. I headed for the back of the property. I chose that moment to get the fallen tree because it was also at the bottom of a sheer wall with a few footholds on which at its apex was an unmatched view of the entire plateau. From that vantage point I was sure to see the brown cloud unobstructed and assess its threat, if any. It could just be a flock of birds flying in unison for whatever reason they do that beautiful feat. Or a mass of locusts, a dust devil, or a fire. If it was a fire I wanted to know its dimensions and movement. From the ridge, I’d have that vantage point. And although I couldn’t see the cabin from there, I could hear any distress calls from the bell I mounted on the front porch. Maggie knows never to leave the cabin while I’m away except for an emergency. And then only to ring the bell. I’m never out of earshot of that bell. And for secondary security, we also each had a walkie-talkie. I carried mine on my person at all times when I’m in the field. Maggie had two. One upstairs and one down. She was free to use them anytime she wanted, but she knew if I was quiet when I was away it’s because I was hunting. A squawking radio at the wrong time could be the difference between meat for supper, or a can of beans.

I glassed the horizon looking for any signs of the brown cloud, it was nowhere to be seen. It had dissipated during my trek to the ridge. If it was a fire, it was someone burning a garbage heap. Or maybe it was a car running into the side of a bridge from a late-night race on the old logging road that led across Logan’s Creek. I smiled. Where the unconscious mind comes up with these thoughts was something I liked to ponder, although I never came up with any conclusions. But a little girl with all the curiosities of that age needs to learn the things in her environment. She liked to come up with her own conclusions and then run them by me to smooth out the rough edges of her surmise. I assumed that at this very moment she was documenting the event on a piece of construction paper (in which I always kept a supply in a drawer, along with water colors and sharpie’s, in her space in the loft). When completed, her masterpiece would be adorned anywhere in the cabin in which she chose to display it.

It was a beautiful Autumn morning. I suspected around nine a.m. The sun still only just touching the tops of the trees in the valley below. I sat on the edge of the ridge, still, and in silence in part to listen for the bell, but also in hopes of surprising a squirrel coming out of its nest to check out its early morning surroundings and bathe in the sun to shake off the morning chill before scampering to the forest floor to gather and bury nuts for the long winter ahead. Two squirrels were had that morning, along with the fallen tree which will be made into something. I had in mind a new table for the front porch. The first one I made has a lot to be desired. We liked to sit on the porch and talk about whatever we wanted in the late afternoon sunshine while skinning and preparing, for supper, whatever I had killed that day. Just prior to finishing up the details at hand, Maggie would venture out to the garden to gather whatever vegetables her taste buds demanded for the evening meal. The choice was always hers. With supper consumed and the chores done, we would always venture out into the woods for our daily walk. On the way out she was on foot darting here and there checking out whatever she could find under leaves and stones. Or she would stop at a tree to check out what was crawling up it. She would block the path of a bug or some such until it crawled onto her finger. She would bring the now trapped bug on the end of her finger to her face for a closer look, then place it back where she got it and move along to the next something to see and feel and wonder about. She would always lead the way, and her questions were nonstop. Wherever she wanted to go was up to her. It was her schooling and the knowledge she wanted to gain for that particular day. She’s gotten to know the property pretty well. I don’t have to worry about her getting lost. I’m confident she could easily find her way back to the cabin should anything ever happen, God forbid. On the way back I would usually carry her atop my shoulders. Her little legs would get tired from all the running around she did. Weather permitting, we would sit on the porch after our walk to watch the sun go down. The nighttime hours were spent reading her stories and doing ABC’s on a whiteboard I had set up on her side of the loft. But these days the board was mostly covered with drawings of some form or the other. She was already an avid reader of Dr. Seuss. Horton Hears a Who was both our favorites and she much enjoyed reading it to me as she sat on my lap. I’ll sometimes call her my “Cindy Lou Who” just to get a giggle from her.

I tucked her in that night as she drifted off to sleep thankful for another day spent with her. I picked up the latest masterpiece from her table beside her bed. There, atop the ridge I had sat upon in the early morning sunlight a half a day ago, were two stick people. I was standing there, she was on my shoulders, looking into the vastest beyond. Below the ridge was a box with four wheels with a chain connected between the log and the four-wheeler. A squirrel was stretched out on a limb of a hugh tree that grew to almost the top of the ridge. The landscape beyond were rolling hills with a thousand trees dotting the entire piece of paper. Bugs were affixed to several trees. And there at the top and in the middle of the drawing was a small brown cloud.

I set the drawing back atop her table and stared at my little girl as she lay sleeping. Even though she wasn’t in my presence that day, she was with me. Maybe not in person but in spirit. She wanted to be with me when I found out what the brown cloud meant in the scheme of things, but she also must have seen the concern in my eyes when I had first saw it and knew of the importance that I find out what it was. She knew I would go to the ridgetop to find out my answer. It’s one of the few places on the property she’s never been. Although I can make my way to the top of the ridge by myself in relative safety, getting her up there too was a dangerous venture and she knew that. So she let me do what needed to be done without complaint. She knew the only way she could go too was in her drawings and she was content with that. In her eyes she was still with me, and I with her.

I didn’t give up anything to be a daddy to my little girl. I gave up everything to be a daddy to her. Everything that was senseless. A job that required babysitters and daycare. Having her grow up at the hands of strangers was not going to happen. She was a precious gift given to me by God and I was not going to bring her up like that. I wanted her to know the beauty of God’s world, not the evil in it. I scooped up my little bundle of pure joy in my arms and carried her to my bed. I placed her there and crawled in with her. She wrapped her arm around my neck and lay her head on my chest. As I drifted off to sleep I thought about the log I had gotten from the foot of the ridge earlier in the day. Tomorrow Maggie and I will return the log to the ridge where I found it, where she and I, together, will make a ladder.