Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.
The wind picked up. The clouds became a sea of waves moving rapidly across the sky. As I drove down the country highway, my small Prius jerked in the strength of this weather. I made it to school. Then the gusts blew across the parking lot sending my hair into my freshly lipsticked lips, stuck. Bleh!
Once in the classroom, the windows didn’t rattle, but the roof rumbled like a drumroll. When Madison came in after recess, her hair was wispy around her face, escaping from her pony tail. “The wind is so wild,” she exclaimed, “We had to run in the direction of the wind, so we wouldn’t be blown away.”
A storm is coming. The train whistle echoes across the air like a far off warning. I can’t believe it, the ice cream truck is singing down the street, as if it’s a normal sunny day and children are playing in the streets.
Azaleas that just popped out pink blossoms yesterday will litter the ground by morning. The spooky moss (as some child once called it) is spookier as it wanders in the shadows of the oaks.
I want to laugh about the wind. I want to run in its wake like a child. But there’s this adult person sitting here who has seen the damage wind can do. Who knows what the weather predictions are. So I am guarded and irritable and worried.
Dolly Parton said (according to BrainyQuotes) that storms make trees take deeper roots. This tree that is me wants the storm to go away, yet I’ll put down my roots, stay strong, sway a little more, and take what comes.
Reflections on the Teche 