The Sky Always Clears

I pulled over on the rainy afternoon yesterday because this scene stopped me cold. The sky was the color of wet slate, the pavement glistened like black glass, and the Exxon sign glowed with a price I haven’t seen in a while: $4.59 a gallon. The palm trees bent in the wind, the lot was nearly empty, and the whole place felt heavy—like the weather itself was mirroring what a lot of us have been feeling lately.

High gas prices have a way of souring everything. Fill-ups that used to be routine now come with a quiet sigh. Plans get scaled back. Budgets tighten. And on a day like this, when even the sky refuses to cooperate, it’s easy for a photographer to feel the same pinch. Rain limits where I can shoot, clouds kill the light I love, and suddenly the world feels smaller.

But here’s what I keep coming back to.

As a U.S. Army veteran, I’ve learned that perspective is everything. Right now, somewhere out there, Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and Guardians are standing watch under very different skies. Some are scanning the horizon for the next missile or drone. Others are prepping for a sortie over hostile territory or carrying out whatever mission our nation asks of them. Gas prices? They’re probably the last thing on their minds. They’re focused on the mission, on each other, and on coming home.

So maybe gas prices should be the last thing on my mind, too.

Because no matter how dark the clouds look—or how high the numbers on the pump climb—there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. The rain will stop. The sun will break through again. And the tensions in the Middle East that are helping drive these prices will eventually draw to a close, just as every other storm in history has.

In the meantime, I’m choosing to see this photograph not as a symbol of what’s weighing us down, but as a reminder of what we’ve made it through before—and what we’ll make it through again.

The sky always clears. It always does.