The Man Who Always Looked Up
Every time someone saw him…
he was looking up.
No one ever asked why.
Until one afternoon…
someone finally did.
July 20, 2026
No…
“No” seems to be a prominent presence in someone’s life.
“Will I be alive after today?”
Young Roberto would ask his mother one early morning, while darkness still covered the sky around five in the morning, waiting for Dad to pull into the driveway so they could head to the E.R. for what felt like the millionth time.
I still remember hearing the whoosh of the cars passing by as Dad drove.
The car bouncing a little over the road on the way to Children’s Hospital.
Years later…
Roberto…
or Robertito, as some loved ones called him…
loved standing below the biggest tree he could find.
He’d raise his head toward the sky.
You’d think it was because of the cool breeze.
No.
He’d sometimes do that for more than an hour.
One afternoon, a young man who often saw him during his lunch break finally asked,
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Stand there with your head raised.”
He smiled.
“Well…
my mother once told me…
’If you ever want peace…
flying could do that for you.
Now…
you’re not going to turn into a bird all of a sudden.
But imagine…
if you raise your head high enough…
imagine you’re already in the clouds.’”
Roberto slowly lowered his head.
He looked at the young man.
He smiled.
“Father…
who art in heaven.”
Maybe…
the birds know something we don’t.
Question for the Reader
Has someone ever given you a piece of advice that only made sense years later?
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I write about ordinary moments, memories, imagination, and the quiet observations that slowly become stories. New reflections and original stories are published regularl
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