Questionist

            Quinn looked up at the blue sky in wonder. He focused on the hue and wondered aloud at it. How much there was of it and how it was so high up. He knew it was very high because he could not touch it. Nor could his mother, father, the birds, the trees, or the buildings, it was just so high up above the world. It was not part of the world, just like the clouds that swept across the sky like dust motes in the air.

            “Why is the sky blue?” He questioned his mother, who was pushing the stroller lazily along the sidewalk home.

            “Hm?” His mother responded, having spaced out on what she should do when she got home first. Should she make dinner, or should she feed the dog? Should she wash the dishes? Should she put Quinn in the tub for a bath?

            “The sky! Why is it blue?” Quinn peeked over the right of his stroller, than to his left to try and catch his mother’s eye to make sure she was listening.

            “Oh, I don’t know. It just is.” She didn’t know the answer and she was too tired to make one up. She was now wondering which would be the quickest meal to make because she was too tired to actually make something from scratch.

            “Why is the sky so high?”

            “It just is.”

            “Are the clouds part of the sky?”

            “Yup.”

            “Why aren’t they blue?”

            “Because they’re white.”

            “They’re not white when the sun goes down, or up. Why is that?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Can you live in the sky?”

            “Nope.”

            “Oh.”

            Quinn sat back in his stroller and frowned at his chubby little fingers. He would have liked to live in the sky. He would have liked to find the answers to his questions.

            “Does daddy know why the sky is blue?”

            “Maybe. You should ask him when he comes home tonight.”

            “Okay. What’s for dinner?”

            “How about Macaroni?”