The Wind

The desert wind devoured me today and now I am in love.

It was a tricky old wind – an experienced wind, the kind I should have tried to outrun before it was too late. But it swept me up in its disguise, arriving first as a benevolent breeze, there to rescue me from the sun, cooling my skin, allowing me to cruise along thinking everything was perfect. And it was – perfect - for a time.

This tricky old wind traveled with me, deeper and deeper into the desert, luring me farther and farther away from the safety of the familiar, seducing me with the promise of a perfect ride. And it was – perfect - for a time.

I trusted this tricky old wind as it whispered possibilities and as I rode faster and faster along the deserted landscape, seeing only the road ahead, seeking the horizon, hearing nothing except the wind’s promises. And, for a time, it was a perfect ride.

But, the tricky old wind changed and the cooling breeze became charged with hot desert sand. The breeze, no longer benign, confronted me on all sides, swirling around me like an invisible roller coaster threatening to upend me; to sweep me up into its swells, turning my perfect ride into a thrill ride.

When this tricky old wind turned into persistent gusts, I was still too naïve to be afraid. Instead, I fell into exhilaration and prepared myself for the adventure because I am strong and brave and eager for the thrill of a new and dangerous ride.

The tricky old wind strengthened its hold as it whipped me from side to side. I leaned to adjust with each burst, but felt my control slipping away. I loosened my grip knowing I was in for trouble if I wrestled the wind and so I let it lead me on a thrill ride.

As the hot desert partnered with this tricky old wind, the air exploded with a billion particles of sand transforming my world into an amber glow as if backlit from heaven - only I was not in heaven. My sight obscured, I began to feel vulnerable to the tricky old wind’s whims and so I stopped, deciding to take control of the thrill ride.

To protect myself I covered my body with layers so I no longer felt the bite of this tricky old wind. Putting on extra protection, covering every thing, leaving nothing exposed was the only way to survive because if this tricky old wind burrowed through to my skin I might have surely lost my way.

Moving again, I followed the line where the road meets the sand; my only choice. And still the tricky old wind seduced me, refusing to release, coiling up and around until my outer layers became nothing more than a façade of thick skin as this tricky old wind crept under my covering, worming its way through my skin and into my soul.

But, still I was not lost. I moved forward, the wind attached to me like a stalker, and made progress toward home and safety. I felt its itch as I rode and it was horrible, but I was alive, riding faster forward until I was certain I had outrun this tricky old wind as it waned where the city met the desert, returning again to a benign breeze, but never left totally or completely.

I stopped my bike and breathed, wondering where the tricky old wind might be hiding.

And I know it is hiding still - waiting to erupt again because it knows that I will return to the desert and when I feel the tricky old wind surround me my heart will pound, my engine will roar, and I will have no choice, but to ride toward the . . . possibilities.