The humidity on the cool, late, morning breeze makes it feel as if little drops of rain are flying on the wind. The sky to the left and right are full of dark clouds. You can’t tell if it is going to rain or if it already has. The whole world smells so clean. The wind picks at your hair and the flannel that covers your shoulders. You don’t take the shortcut through the library today.
The outside world feels welcoming and you close your eyes to just feel, just breathe. When you open them you look up to see a yellow leaf falling and you want to catch it. You want to catch it for good luck or whatever superstitious tale was tacked onto catching falling leaves. You want it. But the leaf falls and you fight gravity another day.
You don’t want to be stuck on the ground, lifting one foot after the other to go somewhere, to be someone. You want something more, maybe something new? You don’t know. You dream of travelling and conquering the world. Deep down you feel that twinge of fear and you smother it; smother the burning feeling with determination with the light of the moon in the night. The sun peeks through the clouds as if to give you its blessing. You can’t help but to smile at the star that keeps Earth alive.
The wind blows your hair out of it’s braids once again and shakes droplets out of the trees. It rained earlier you think to yourself. The wind blows so softly through the hairs on your arms. It blows across the back of your neck, bringing about your favorite weather; your favorite feeling of belonging. Then you stop to think, to wonder if anyone else is thinking about the weather: the wind, rain, falling leaves, and the soft sunlight.
People walk past and you think they must be, maybe not in the same sense, but their fall jackets and favorite jeans hint that they knew the wind would bite today. The trees rustle quietly and you smile one last time and you decide that you couldn’t be happier to be right where you are at exactly this moment.
