Wind unsettles me. Especially late at night.
And so, I spent an unsettled night last night, the winds pushing odd dreams into my head, mixing things up into unnatural storylines.
As a self-professed weather nut, I draw the line at strong winds. Especially at 2 a.m., when I suck in my breath, hoping the house keeps its feet firmly planted, cheering on the wood shingles to find one good nail to cling to.
Wind makes me feel vulnerable, reminds me that I have little control over my life, regardless of the lies I tell myself each morning. Not the wind of a tornado, so much, with its hyper commitment to focus. Tornados fill me with a mix of awe and fear. Easy to say, since I have never actually been in one.
No. The winds that really get me are those relentless, bullying, wide-sweeping winds that care not a whit about having a single game plan. These are the winds that can turn a neighborhood walk into an episode of "Fear Factor," as we wince under each swaying, giant Locust that lines our street, sure that we'll be killed by a wayward limb crying out "Uncle."
These are the winds that, after the stubborn Pin Oaks finally let loose their giant leaves, cause neighbors to sneer at each other, as they soak their blistered hands, their rakes giggling in the corners of garages, knowing they've got job security.
It is good to fear nature, though, to be reminded of our place, despite our belief that 24/7 high-speed Internet access means anything at all. There's a reason we describe such winds as "bracing."
And so, I hunker down, my collar pushed up against my ears, and make my way through it, feeling both awe and fear, longing for shelter, even in the brick walls of my workplace.
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