The Wind: A Four Part Series -- Part III

"Where did the wind learn how to fly?" - Connor Brennan, 3 years old.

The summer wind: Hot and dry the wind bustles through the crowd. It’s playing another game, a game of cat and mouse. I am the mouse trying to escape the uncomfortable taste of dust that usually accompanies a long hot summer. I am tired from the heat, and desperate for the shade to provide some sort of relief. It does not come. Only the wind is there, hot and indifferent to those around it. It has a job to do and that job is to make everyone uncomfortable. The wind carries out its task with jubilant effort and seems to mock those who feel it. I can almost hear the wind laugh as I cry out in annoyance from the rough, dry air pressing through my body.

There is no escape this time and the wind knows it has the advantage. I walk down the city streets, looking at the shops with their doors open. Occasionally I find a brief moment of sheer bliss as I am encompassed about by the air conditioned spots sporadically located down the street. This does not make the wind happy, and I feel its outrage when I step out of the coolness and into the hot wind waiting to have its vengeance.

Exhausted I throw my hands up into the air, tired from the game I am apparently losing. I drag my feet to my car, anxious for the air conditioning I have inside. But the wind makes my every effort only the more exhausting. It comes at me in short bursts and envelopes me with the gritty feel of dust and dirt. I wipe my red eyes, irritated from the constant barrage of debris the wind uses for its ammunition. Slowly I make my way to my car with the only strategy I have the strength to carry out. I keep my head down, walk into the wind, and constantly take one step forward. I shall not surrender this time, no matter what the wind throws at me.

This is the final leg of the race, the final part of the game and the wind knows this. It throws everything it can at me, but I consistently move forward. This frustrates the wind, and it makes one final attempt to defeat me by tossing up a new dust devil around my knees. The dust devil gets surprisingly stronger as new debris is caught in the whirlwind and grows higher. My eyes sting so badly tears stream down my face, creating lines of dirt and dust along my face. But I soldier on towards my goal one step at a time until I am inside my car. I take a moment to look out into the city streets. The wind has given up and moved on and for once the victory is mine.