The wind whispered "Harry-" and the seven year old spun another circle, desperately searching. "Harry" it said, spinning past him in a whirl. Harry started to cry. He knew it was his parents. Parents had never been a word with much meaning, yet it held so much. A mum, a dad. The wind blew through his hair, and he felt a slight, gentle bump on his forehead. A kiss? He spun around again, wondering why they would tease him like this, where they could be hiding. Why they never showed themselves. Suddenly they were all around him, and the wind was blowing by him faster, through him faster. He heard a snatch of laughter, a moan of longing, a cry. He heard, "I love you" in the voice of the wind, then, "You're amazing." A whiff of something…. Flowers? Lillies? It was tantalizing, all of it. He expected to see them, floating down with the wind, rising from the brook, swishing through the grass 'till they reached him. They would scoop him up, their arms engulfing him. He would bury himself in their love, and hold on forever. "Harry! "The wind blew round him once more, and he found himself flat on his back, staring up at the clouds. The clouds- they were changing in the wind, billowing and furling.. He saw parts round and full, bits that were no more than vapor, soft areas, white and puffy, and shadows the color of smoke. They were taking shape- forming. There was a distinguished line of a jaw. A mouth here, nose here, and the eyes. Two sparkled and gleamed, wide and pretty, glistened with tears. Two framed with circular forms, held longing and pride, staring down. "Mum! Dad!" Harry reached a hand out, reaching for the sky, reaching for them. But then the wind started blowing. The clouds glided away, leaving a clear patch of blue. And Harry was on his feet, running, bursts of speed, his short legs pumping, he flew over the grass, but he couldn't reach them. "Wait!" But they blew faster, the faces distorting and transforming until his parents were just another cloud, floating high in the sky, and he could never, ever call them back. Harry dropped to his knees, the stale, cool draft on his cheek trickled further down to his nose, reached his lips, and then he was sobbing as the cloud blew further and further away. A gentle breeze caressed his face, and he knew they were never gone, not really, but they weren't here, and never would be. And he stared with longing after the fluffy, white cloud in the distance, wishing.