The Wind

He was the wind. He lived in the coldest places, but could sometimes be found in a mountain meadow on a warm summer's day, though those days were growing years apart. His life was unpredictable, stable in some years and whirling in others. He traveled in all places, driving by himself, picking others up from time to time but then letting them off again not much later. He collected bits and pieces of people's lives, but never hung onto them for too long. The only things he kept were from his previous life, before he was the wind.

The Dakotas had been his home for the past two, maybe three years. He had lost track of time, not moving, not doing anything much but going to bars and watching football. Maybe he'd visit Minnesota again. His son had sent him a Minnesota baseball cap recently. A reminder of how nice it'd be for the kids to see their grandpa. Whenever he looked at that cap, hanging from the back of the motel room chair, he thought about it.

But he was old. The wind was once strong, but now it was more of a vague breeze. He was petering out, and soon he would not be the wind anymore. He did not know what he would be, once he was no longer the wind. Perhaps he would be dead by then.

One summer morning, he looked again at the Minnesota cap. He had never worn it, just let it hang on the back of that chair. It was too much like a call to stop being himself.  His father had been the wind before him, and he was the wind now.  And then his son…but no, Steven would never be the wind. Yet there must always be a wind in his family.

Steven was his only child. Steven was married to Sue, and they had two kids, Shawn and Vicki. Shawn was twenty-two now, he thought, and Vicki was either eighteen or nineteen. He wasn't sure. The last time he had seen them, Shawn was graduating high school. He was a good kid, high up in his class, an Eagle Scout. And Vicki…Vicki was artistic, like her grandfather. She did well enough, so he heard, but wasn't known for her schoolwork.

He sat down in the worn chair, looking at that cap and thinking. The wind hadn't blown away from the Dakotas for a long time. It was time to travel again, time to go. He was the wind. He didn't need to tell Steven he was coming, he didn't need to pack too much. He'd call once he was in town and see if they wanted to grab a bite to eat.

He loved the open road. Nothing behind him but towns he'd already visited, nothing ahead but blue skies and grass. Highways were for those in a hurry; he took the winding country roads that sometimes ended in fields. There was no need for maps, he'd find his way eventually. Once he got it into his head to go to a place, he went, no matter how long it took to get there.

Taking highways, it probably would've only taken a day or two's worth of driving to get to Minnesota, but he took five. At least, it felt like five. He could definitely remember pulling over to the side of the road and sleeping in his car a couple of times, but he didn't know how many nights he'd done it for. After puzzling it over on the last leg of the trip, he decided it didn't matter. It was all just part of the wind's journey.

He had to take a busy road to get into town. He didn't like it. Too many young people driving too fast, anxious to get somewhere. They'd learn, eventually, that taking his time was one of the greatest pleasures in life. Some said that, since he was old, he was running out of time, and needed to go everywhere faster to make up for it, but that wasn't true.

The streets were all too familiar, but with fascinating changes here and there. A new tree, perhaps, or an old house repainted. Just life moving on all around him. He looked at the note he had scribbled many years before with Steven's address. The paper was yellowed and old, and the pen strokes were fading, but he could read it well enough in the sunshine. He vaguely remembered a white house, but they could've repainted it a different color by now. The house number was important.

He counted the suburban homes as he passed, finally reaching 2294. The giant maple tree out front had been cut down, but he could see the pine peeking from the back. There were no other cars out front. Everyone must be gone, hurrying to live their lives. He didn't have a key, but that was alright. He could sleep until they got there.

The wind rarely rested, and never peacefully, but with the summer sun warming the car seats, and the windows rolled down to let in the fresh air, sleep came quickly. It was easy to just shut his eyes, and…



He saw Vicki first. She was happy to see him, though very surprised. Once she sat him down in the living room and gave him a cup of coffee, she excused herself to the kitchen. He heard her talking to Steven. He didn't catch anything they said, but she sounded a mix of exasperated and pleased.

When she came back to sit in the armchair across from him, she smiled tiredly. He complimented her on the coffee, though he had lost his taste for it years ago.

"It's been so long, Grandpa. What are you doing here? Why didn't you call?"

"I came to say hello! You know, last time I saw you, you were only in high school. What're you doing now?"

She answered loudly, so his old hearing aids would pick up her words, "Yeah, you haven't visited since Shawn's graduation. We've all missed you,"–he thought there was a hint of frustration in her voice–"You know, Dad would have liked to hear from you first, before you came. So we could–."

"Oh, it'll be fine. How's school, Vicki? Do you like it?"

"Yeah, yeah it's fine. How long are you staying for, Grandpa?"

"Oh, I don't know. A couple of days, most likely," he said. He couldn't give her a straight answer. He was the wind; the wind never had a schedule.

She sighed, rubbing her temples, "Ok, Grandpa. Whatever. Are you getting a hotel, or do you want to stay here?"

He thought for a bit. "Do you have a spare bed?"

"Yeah, Shawn'll give his up. He can sleep on the couch."

That wouldn't do. "Oh, no, I'll sleep on the couch. I don't want to be a bother."

"No. If you stay, you'll sleep in a bed. Shawn can take the couch. Dad'll insist."

"Ok, then. I guess that's alright."

She stood up, wiping her hands on her pants, "Do you have any bags, Grandpa? Anything you need help bringing in?"

"Just my backpack. I'll get it."

"No, Grandpa. Let me."

She left, and he clutched his full cup of coffee. The dogs outside were barking their fool heads off, and one of the cats was pawing his leg, mewing. He lifted it up, letting it lap at the brown sludge in his cup. It was an orange tabby, and small. He didn't remember it, but that was alright. It purred in his lap, feeling like an engine. Smelled funny, though. Like oil and exhaust and window cleaner…



"Grandpa, wake up! Grandpa, can you hear me? Grandpa! Grandpa!"

Vicki's voice was distant. When he opened his eyes, she was blurry. The car engine was still going, but the sun was right in his eyes. The glare was too bright. He quickly shut his eyes and tried to lift his hands. But he couldn't move. His fingers, once so dextrous at fixing pipes and broken shelves, wouldn't respond. Breathing was hard.

The back of his eyelids were red from the too-powerful sun. The ancient truck seats were hot and sticky and smelled of old soda stains. It was so very uncomfortable, what with the buzzing of a fly on the windshield. The whirr of its wings grew louder. He wanted to swat it out of existence. The buzzing drowned out Vicki's panicked voice. The annoying sound was becoming almost peaceful.



He was not the wind. He was nothing but an old husk of a man, ready to wander the roads in the sky. Maybe he didn't believe in God, but there was a road stretching up and away, its dusty contours calling to him. The girl sobbing near his body couldn't see it, but he could. And he patted her on the head, whispering that it was ok. He didn't know if she heard him, but she would know. Today she became the Wind. She may not know it yet, but once her grief had passed, she'd let her mind journey along the endless paths of the world, and she would follow. The call of odyssey was irresistible for the Wind.

He felt the pull of a breeze, and he followed it far away from the old truck, the house, the highways. It would never end, and it was wonderful.