A Winter's breeze

A breeze graces myself with its presence and I welcome its gentle touch, but I am unprepared for its piercing shock. This breeze transformed into a gust that chilled deep into my veins and froze the very core of my body. The wind persisted for what seemed to be minutes but in actuality was only seconds. Every second that the wind scratched against my skin I felt pieces of my being blowing away with it. I felt like I was being suffocated, but how can you suffocate on something made of air? My lungs constricted and I felt the lack of oxygen temporarily create black dots in my vision. The dots disappeared quickly but the wind’s chill still haunted my shell of a person. I am confused as to how a breeze on a mid-April 50°F day can leave one so distraught. 

This illness has taken so much from me and I cannot stand to have my spring days ruined by a small breeze anymore. This disease has caused far more significant issues than a cold intolerance, but this is what has stuck and I cannot stand to be afraid of the outdoors. I have made remarkable progress with my illness, but the cold stays and the wind is a brutal reminder every time that nothing will change unless I do. I remember as a young kid how I used to run around my neighborhood on the first few real warm days of spring and I would beg for a slight breeze from the sky. And when the wind would return my request I would bask and enjoy every second of my luck. Even in the winter, when the temperature was in the single digits, my younger self could put on a brave face and trudge through the cold. But oddly now as I am older, the cold has become harder to brave, such a simple and expected part of the season change leaves me rattled. 

The worst part of the cold is the wind. Every winter, I gather up several jackets which all make up my winter jacket because I cannot risk going outside without being prepared for the power of the wind. I make sure to walk close to buildings when I am out in the tundra of my neighborhood, so that I can hide from the gusts of wind that slyly sweep between everything. The wind makes the freeze in the air insufferable. Stagnant air requires teeth grinding and a steady pace, but once the icy knife of the wind stabs into my layers of protection I feel the sharpness of the cold in every muscle of my body. The wind is an overwhelming power and I always feel the temptation to succumb to the element’s powers, but I can not let myself. A gust of wind feels like a personal attack from the elements of nature because of my own issues… 

“But then I get stuck here, I haven’t been able to write anymore for days.” I say, the drafty window next to me lets out a soft creak.

“Well I can see why, you’ve worked yourself into a deadend of negativity. Try to think of something positive.” 

“I guess-”

The window creaks 

“You guess?! This story has a happy ending right?” 

“Yes, yes of course it does!” 

“Ok because right now it just seems like the exact path she was going down, so I don’t know-” 

“No, no I promise, it will get better, just…” 

Gusts of wind pass the house outside 

“What?” 

“It’s just, c-can I please see her room, maybe?” 

The wind howls almost as if a warning. 

“Are you kidding me Madeline? You are already asking so much of me to help you write this, this thing I don’t even understand, you understand that she was my sister, right?” 

“Mar I understand that she was your sister but she was also a sister to me, you are the only person who knows the extent of what we have been through, so how can you say that to me?” 

A draft of wind goes by and the window creaks apologetically 

“I’m sorry, there’s just a lot going on right now.” 

“I know and I am sorry if this is too much, I can wait to write it.” 

“No, no I’ll let you see her room.” 

“Thank you, Mar.” 

“Of course Mads.” 

The window gives a final creek as we leave the kitchen. 

We walked down the hall of their ranch style house towards her room. As we arrived at her closed door, Mar said, “Take your time and don’t overwhelm yourself.” 

“Alright.” I squeaked out. 

I stand in front of my elementary school best friend’s bedroom door “this isn’t how our chapter should have ended” I think to myself as I acknowledge that our best memories have already happened and will forever remain a thing of the past. I can’t bear the thought. 

I started to reach towards her door and I noticed the sticker that we had placed on her doorknob almost two decades ago, we were only kids then. I slowly trace an outline of the sticker with my index finger, it’s an “R”. For Ruthanne. She hated her name, at least her full name. She always found the amount of syllables ridiculous, so she shortened it to “Ruth” sometimes “Ruthie” and she found that to be much more appealing. I wipe the tear from my cheek and I knock on the door. I know she cannot answer but I want to respect her space. 

“Come in.” I heard Ruth’s voice bellow. I was surprised but my curiosity led me to open the door. As I open the door I feel a chill creep over me and I realize that all of Ruth’s windows are open. I see Ruth sitting on her bed. 

“Ruth, why are your windows open? It’s January and the heat is running!” I exclaim, stepping closer to her. 

“Hey Mads! What are you up to?” Ruth answers unbothered by my question. 

“Ruth what is going on?” I implore.

“I just wanted to feel the breeze, I didn’t realize you would become my mom.” She laughs, oblivious to my tone. 

I sit on her bed and hold her hand, I urge, “No, Ruth why is this how I am talking to you?” 

She laughs again, “Mads you have always wanted to get to the bottom of everything, but that only leads you to the bottom, whose to say that the left is not correct?” She giggles again and I am left unsettled. 

A breeze travels through the window and tickles the warped photographs on Ruth’s vision board. I turn my attention away from Ruth and towards her desk above which her vision board is mounted. Ruth made this board about two years ago when she said she had really had enough and finally wanted to recover. She said that her vision board had something to keep her motivated through all times and as long as she continued to refer to it when she needed help, she could recover. 

I start to walk towards Ruth’s desk and as I approach, I find myself bombarded with colors and bright bubbly words. They say things like, “Attitude makes all the difference” and “Nothing is impossible”. They are fairly generic sayings and graphics. I honestly would not expect Ruth to create something like this, maybe a vision board, but she would choose graphics and sayings that had more personality and were more sarcastic. This did not seem like Ruth’s work. That’s when I saw at the bottom of the poster, there was a little arrow penciled in. Then I realized that there was another piece of paper behind the vision board. I cautiously peel the first layer of the vision board back and reveal another poster board the exact same size and shape that is titled, “What We’re Actually Invisioning”. This was Ruth’s. 

Under the title there is a little blurb that states, “Those ‘happy-go-lucky’, merriment, positivity phrases mean nothing and are not at all helpful unless you want them to mean something, and to do that you may have to change your perspective.” There was nothing else on the poster except for a printed and taped on graphic of an airplane. This graphic has two boxes, in one of these boxes there is an airplane that is trying to take off in the direction of the wind. The airplane in the first box is struggling and ultimately unsuccessful at taking off. However, in the other box there is an airplane that is taking off against the wind and the airplane has a thought bubble that reads, “This is easier.” The plane effortlessly takes off. 

“See, I didn’t really think that I needed all the color and empty positive phrases, that picture gives me the only vision I need.” 

“To find an easier way to live life?” 

Again she laughs, if it were anyone else I would think it was condescending, but Ruth found that behavior petty. “No, love”, she says, “This is an allegory to live life with an open mind and be open to other perspectives because being stubborn can lead to deadends and routine-full and meaningless lives.” 

“Is that all?” I joke. I love the way she adds meaning to life. 

“Well you know how I love to overthink.” She chuckles back. 

“Ruth-” I pause.

“Yes, Madeline?” She says sarcastically. 

“I am just really glad to see you.” I say. 

“Mads that’s all you had to say, we see each other all the time!” She exclaims. 

“But you-” She cuts me off. 

“Hold on.” She holds up her hand as if to physically pause my speech and she starts to get off of her bed and make her way towards the window. “I just love the air when it first snows, there’s a sweet crispness to it.” I say nothing, but watch Ruth make her way to the window beside her bed. She places her palms on the paint-chipped window sill and presses her hips against the wall to hold her upper half stable as she leans out the window. 

“Ruth-” But once I’ve uttered it, it’s too late. Just a breeze remains. I am on the floor sobbing once again over my old friend. But at least now I am reassured that she has control over what was once her worst enemy, the wind. Another perspective change I guess. I hear Mar clamor into the room. 

“Madeline are you ok?” She yells, “Why are all the windows open?” She yells desperately concerned. 

Mar kneels to the floor and turns me face up. I am a mess of tears and snot. Mar asks, “What’s wrong?” 

I can’t think of what to say because what do I say? What can I say? There are no words for my emotions. I finally managed to say, “I was trying to figure out how to take off a plane following the direction of the wind and it’s not easy. I just really wish it was more feasible.” I sobbed. “I’ll find a better way to take off eventually.”