It was the kind of dawn that makes you wish you were a witch–not a real witch, but a woman with a wide brimmed pointy hat and a broom for flying. The sky was pink–the parts that were not covered by clouds the color of bruises–and the wind squeezed around me and mussed my hair, like a fond uncle with quick, but real, affection as he hurries out the door, late for work.
The wind is so… tangible… in October you can almost understand where the belief came from. The way it grabs your waist and tugs on your jacket, doesn’t it seem like, if only you knew what to whisper to the earth to get it to let you go, you could just fling your arms wide open, and let go first with one foot and then, slowly, the other, until you were nestled safely in the cold grasp of the breeze as it sweeps you along? And from that point, how hard is it to believe that, with something to act as your rudder, perhaps a thick fan of straw attached to a stick for easy handling, you could change your direction and move along the currents of the breeze with the ease a boat captain steers along a deep, moving channel?
I liked this a lot. Even way out in California, we get the October winds…love them. I’ll be a witch for halloween this year, and maybe fling myself into the wind and fly away.
I love the wind and the smell of the breeze as it sweeps the leaves and swirls them around. I too have often thought I would like to fly,along with the leaves.