By Riley Corboy
Funnily enough, these pictures were not the original concept for this article. But when I realized how many breathtaking sky pictures were already stashed in my library and wrapped in memories, I knew I couldn’t let them go to waste. So for your viewing pleasure, here are twenty of my favorite, most stunning sky pictures and one sentence each about the memories attached to them.
Milky tired, staring with unfocused eyes out the car window, unsure which state you’re in now.
Salty fries, saltier ocean air, and sunburn crisping the tops of your shoulders.
Dark circles like thumbprints under your eyes, arriving at school just as the sun is rising–one glimpse of beauty before the door shuts behind you.
The first view of the ocean after seven hours cramped behind a steering wheel and a half mile walk under the blistering June sun.
Cool, crumbly sand between your toes and watching families fly kites as the moon rises in the distance.
Suburbia set on fire.
Hands shaky from your fear of flying and lack of sleep, pretending the clouds are lily pads you could skip across.
The best part about starting a cross-country road trip at 4:00 am is seeing the sun rise in more than one state.
Happiness that tastes like sugar crystals between your teeth.
A surprisingly warm evening with the feeling of almost-rain heavy in the air, like electricity tickling the back of your neck.
Tiny mushroom clouds hugging the sky like polka dots while your best friend hums The Beatles beside you in the car.
The aftermath of a storm that knocked out the power for two and a half days, your whole family with their noses pressed against the glass.
A wintry walk with someone you used to love, warm hands that feel like a memory even before they are.
Pretending to be mermaids at 19 and letting the tide carry you and your best friend far from shore.
One hour before the worst heartbreak of your life (and one hour before falling asleep on the bathroom floor, still crying in your dreams).
Racing your brother up sand dunes, lungs aching, hair stinging your face, with dinner reservations you’re fifteen minutes late for.
A breath of fresh air.
Swapping strawberry Twizzlers with your sister, snapping your pink bubblegum, electric with anticipation right before the fireworks start.
The fraction of space between your dorm and dining hall, two ordinary places laced together by an extraordinary burst of beauty.
The smell of s’mores from your fire pit, burned marshmallow and half-melted chocolate on the side of your elbow, feeling lighter than you have in months.
All images courtesy of Riley Corboy