Fickle Winds

Fickle Winds

A Short Story

by Dana Wagner

The wind swept tendrils of long blonde hair back from my face as I turned a pork chop over on the grill. Being indecisive in its direction, as is often the case with wind, it whipped my hair back across my eyes. I tossed my head to the side as the breeze shifted again, this time in my favor. I couldn’t quite declare this wind as warm or cold. It was somehow neither and both. Unseasonably warm for such an early March day in the Midwest, it still held a slight chill as it caressed my skin. As though winter hadn’t quite had its final say.

The flames in the grill danced and dipped with the wind just as ocean waves ebb and flow when coaxed by the same. I watched as hot dogs, pork chops and burgers were licked through the metal grate by charring tongues. I closed the grill, encasing the flames and trapping heat.

My little boy played fetch in the yard with our dog, still a puppy by age, but full grown in size, she was well beyond one hundred pounds. She ran to collect the ball. Seizing it in her massive jaws, she shook it violently as she returned to my child. She placed it ever so gently in the boy’s waiting hand, her tail wagging proudly. I smiled at the interaction.

My eyes were diverted from them by movement in the neighbor’s backyard. There was a young girl jumping on a large enclosed trampoline with a friend. I knew the girls. They visited to play with the puppy or swim in our pool on hot, lazy days. Their shrieks and laughter twirled and mingled with the breeze, carrying their childhood delight throughout our neighborhood.

I noticed buds on trees, and insects buzzing around busily. Birds of prey were soaring effortlessly on the breeze, wings spread but unmoving as they floated along. I heard chirping from their smaller friends in the trees, twitters and giggles; so happy to stretch their wings and sing their songs after being silenced all winter. 

I lifted the lid on the grill and the scent of flame kissed meats wafted out. It swirled inside my nostrils and taunted my tastebuds, hinting at flavors that were just out of reach. I watched the smoke lift from the grate and tango with the breeze. I wondered how far the smoke would dance along the current. How many other noses would take notice of the aroma it offered? I gave the meat one last flip. Sizzle, sear, smoke. The lid went down, and the sun wished to follow.

The vivid hues of the sunset were stunning. The colors hinted at sweet warm weather desserts that were cool and refreshing to the palate. Layers of orange, red and yellow, like a fruit parfait dappled with whipped cream clouds and topped with plump purple blueberries. I could almost taste the crisp, clean sweetness of the fruit and feel the smooth velvet cream on my tongue.

Eyes closed, I took a deep breath, inhaling the rebirth of the world around me. Everything was sweet and innocent with spring’s awakening, having been baptized beneath winter’s icy cover. Spring had resurfaced, ready to bring about new growth and healing to the land. I was eager to accept it with the rise of tomorrow’s sun, when warm rays would act as fingers to pull green seedlings from the dark depths of the earth. 

Reluctantly, I exhaled and opened my eyes and ears once again to the world around me. The wind reminded me of its presence, slapping a curtain of hair against my face. I swept it aside, as easily as the wind had. My son shrieked and giggled as a giant pink tongue slid over his face. The birds were quiet in the trees, the predators were no longer in sight having returned to their nests for their evening meal.

I called my towheaded son to the dinner table, and we were joined by my husband. We filled our plates and expressed our delight over the unusually pleasant day. The puppy lay patiently on the floor, her head resting on the rung of our son’s chair. No doubt waiting for the scraps that would come her way. 

Darkness fell. An unexpected rumble rose in the distance. Our son jumped, then laughed about being startled. The air from the open kitchen window held a chill now as it pushed its way inside our cozy space. I shivered. My husband shut the window, protecting us from the night that was creeping steadily in. The puppy lifted her head, curious about such matters. 

As the night went on, it brought with it a storm. North winds raged, howling and moaning in the night. Outside the window, trees danced violently to the new melody. No longer swaying in the breeze, they were thrashing and whipping about. Thunder roared and crashed bringing bright, jagged bolts of lightning to slash at the sky.

Our boy was tucked cozily in his bed, the dog-sized puppy curled against him, warming them both. I kissed his forehead, we exchanged wishes for sweet dreams. Seeing him settled for the night, we snuggled into our own bed between flannel sheets. Our soft down comforter became heavy on our bodies, twisting and rolling with us as we writhed in the heat of our lovers’ dance. The wind cried out passionately, echoing me.

We fell still and quiet in our bed, content to let sleep take us. The winds were still battling, or perhaps loving, as they swirled around our house. Walls creaked and windows rattled as they did their duty to shield us. On and on throughout the night, the wind said its piece.

When my alarm sounded, I wanted to hit the snooze, to be lazy and let the world pass me by for a day. Hazy sunshine streamed through our windowpane, reaching for my hand. Knowing that there were schedules to keep and work to be done, I rose from my bed like a marionette pulled up slowly by its strings. Clumsy and stiff, I stumbled to the bedroom door as though my puppeteer was an amateur. I called for the puppy knowing she would need to go out.

She clambored toward me, tongue flopping and tail wagging. I ruffled the thick, soft fur on her head and we ventured to the back door together. I eased the door open and saw a powdered sugar dusting of snow on the grass. The wind had dwindled. A cool breeze was left behind to scoop puffs of white powder into the air before tossing it about playfully.  Yesterday Lady Spring had opened her eyes and stretched in her eagerness to greet the day; today she’d hit snooze.