It Must be the Wind?

The sun did not shine much today, as an endless curtain of grey, fluffy clouds sped quickly across the sky at the mercy of the wind. The wind had a steady current with gusty blasts every few moments which would lift a leaf or a piece of trash and send it into the air. The blasts would move the tiny hairs on my legs and hands alerting me to its forceful presence and plaster my shorts to one side of my legs all the while sending the opposite side of them flapping wildly. A little ball of sweat would slide down my temple leaving a cold trail where the sweat had evaporated from my skin, until the wind and evaporation a had shrunken the small bead eradicating my knowledge of its presence. Then another drop would fall in similar fashion just beside the trail where the old one fell.

People were moving on foot, in car, or by bus. All going here and there while some took notice of me while others where oblivious to my presence, but all of them seemingly busy about their everyday life. I had my earbuds in, and I could hear David Crowder Band as well as the thump of my earbuds chord on my right shoulder as it lobbed up and down with gravity. My chest was expanding with a forcefull rise and fall as much more than just my diaphram was working to give my chest cavity adequate room for my lungs to fully inflate. I could faintly hear the rush of air as it was captured and then freed from within me because of the muffled hearing my earbuds give me. My peripheral vision noticed the lines, cracks, and inconsistencies in the pavement as it passed below me at a rate slower than those grey, fluffy clouds still moving on overhead. While my mind was conscience of all of this environment, it was also caught in a memory.

It was recalling soft skin. I had visions of very small movements, translucent fingernails, and tiny hands. I was calculating time and remembering camera clicks and tears. I was in a secret, most loved compartment tucked safely and neatly inside my memory. It must be the wind? Every time I go running, the only place my mind goes seems to be this little spot in my memory. It's been over a year now since I held my little boy in my arms and my emotions are much the same. Much like the front of a boat cuts through choppy water, I navigate through feelings of being hurt, happy, proud, upset, lost, joyful, panicked, protective and unbelief until I move closer to love. It is here that while I run I "tie-off." I just kind off float, moving from memory to memory and let whatever comes just float by and impact me.

It made me wonder though, who else is off in this far off place caught between memory and time? I probably looked to others as though I was just "going about my day," but I was embracing a loving memory. I guess it makes me think about how people are out there, and that almost all of them have a few secret and loved compartments in their mind they like to delve into. The really cool thing about these memories is there are no highlights. The beginning of his life in Rachel's belly is as important as the very last moment we spent with him. I remember him moving in the sonogram's, or I can remember him pushing Rachel's blue stretchy shirt up and down making lumpy spots here and there. I remember the way his fingers were stuck in the position that said, "I love you" in sign language. It has been more than a year and I am saying my friend was right. We don't feel less emotion, we just get stronger. I want you to know, for that, I am glad! I miss him terribly sometimes, but for the few short memories, I am very, very glad.