Wind

It keeps life moving

Utter stillness. There is not even a hint of wind. No movement. No sound. The birds are all still — or gone. A silence so intense that I fade into a different dimension. The neighbor’s wind chimes can no longer be heard.

In my ergonomic comfort my eyelids close. I can feel nothing. I can sense nothing. Reality changes.

Twenty-five minutes pass on the clock we are all attuned to. But I am not counting. I am having a joyous conversation with people I do not know. I am telling them a story. They are laughing.

But the story fades and ends without remembering it. I feel air on my skin. The stillness and quiet ends abruptly. Suddenly, the neighbor’s wind chimes begin singing again.

Air pours through the opened windows. The houseplants rejoice as their leaves begin dancing. The hair across my body comes alive.

And suddenly there is birdsong. They have come awake, too.

A neighborhood dog barks. And then another. There is the sound of a distant truck backing up. The frozen world thaws out.

My neighbor’s flag is no longer limp.

Air moves. And life proceeds. As the sun lowers in the sky.

I can hear a train approaching. As it passes through town the ground rumbles. The houseplants shake. I can feel it in my chair.

As it passes my torso is again still but the houseplants still sway in the breeze flowing through the windows.

I look at the houseplants and try to emulate them.

I surrender to the wind.

Thank God for windows.

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