Childhood In Fergus Falls, Mn

The child I was believed the wind was a very small creature, hidden inside things. When trees waved their branches back and forth, winds were suddenly born. They pushed past our pinched faces, bent grass blades, lake reeds and forgotten flowers. And they carried voices as far away as China. When the air turned cold, we sheltered in the old garden gazebo, its planks rattled by the same winds that chilled the air. Leaves piled up around our refuge, but the taste of summer strawberries persisted in my mouth despite those shredding winds. My friends were ageless, and my sister reminded me I would never be as old as the next season. * * * * * Now I know trees did not invent the wind. He is an invisible giant, who looms over me, eighteen feet or higher, and commands all things to bow before him, whether he moves or rests. He is harsh, indifferent and always pursuing a goal beyond us. From me he has stolen the memory of strawberries.