In My Hands

I love how the winter wind is the least ominous of all. It lets you know that it is there. It bites, it stirs, and it roars. It does not shy away or fear you; it embraces you. Sometimes, if you really know how to respect it, it gives you a hug.

Last Wednesday, I tried to hold the winter wind in my hands I stood outside passionately, in a blue dress and barefoot in five inches of snow, and I told the winter wind that we belonged together. I told it that I was meant to protect it and to keep it going.

The winter wind tried to listen, it really did. It flew right into my strongly cupped hands. Sadly though, we both knew that it was too great, mighty, and rambunctious for such a thing to work out: so it slipped away within seconds.

Disappointed yet understand, I contemplated how I could pursue this newly desired relationship. I decided to hold hands with the winter wind. I held out my left hand, the one that I trust the most, and I told the winter wind to hold it: this would mean that it trusted me as its guide.

The winter wind really listened. It held on so tight, and with such great passion that eventually my hand grew fragile. It turned to every sort of cool colour, and it numbed. I felt at one with the winter wind, and I felt happy.

I went on a walk that way; holding hands with the winter wind. It was a marvelous walk until I realised that people were staring at the barefoot girl in the blue dress, grasping at nothing. It was then that I noticed that the winter wind had left me. I was devastated, and I turned quickly and ran looking for that winter wind, that friend I had held so dear. I was not ready to let go, not yet.

I found it, not four blocks from where our bond was made. I asked it why it had left me, and why it wanted me to be all alone. I told the winter wind that I loved it. It was silent, still for a long, contemplative moment. Thinking I had lost it, I almost went off to look for it again.

The winter wind fluttered through my hair and whispered in my ear. It told me that I could not let go soon enough. Winter winds cannot stay forever. It reminded me though, that the moon is up every night, so I may like to befriend it. Teary-eyed, I thanked the winter wind and went on my way.

The winter wind probably does not think that I noticed, but it did follow me on my way home. It comforted me to know that it was so concerned for my safety. It led to a sort of… “You do care!” epiphany.

And that is the story of the time I tried to hold the winter wind in my hands.