Drifting

Straining against the beckoning wind, she pulls on the door latch, willing it to stay within her grasp. The wind howls, snarls at her, taunting her weakness and her inability to overcome it. Furiously, she yanks again at the door, this time curling her fingers around its edge. Her hair flies around her face, whipping her, punishing her for the wrong choices she’s made- the choice to be here in the first place. With equal vehemence, the wind sucks at the air from within, persuading it to work against her too. Her knuckles bleed, letting out with it some of the agony within. It’s an impasse. The wind is too strong to let up; she is too stubborn to let go. For a moment, time ceases to move.

Gritting her teeth, she growls in fury, slamming the door, slamming out the wind that would have taken her. Slamming it against the threat of oblivion. Finally.

Turning, she leans her back upon the door. That door, which just a second ago was her greatest obstacle, is now her greatest support, her only protection. She slides against it into a sitting position. Drawing her knees up, she wipes at the tangles surrounding her face. Why is it happening again? Folding her arms atop her knees, she rests her head against them a moment. Her eyelids close.

Blocking out the angry cries of the wind outside, she focuses on her breath. In 1,2,3. Out 1,2,3. In 1,2,3. Out 1,2,3. The steady rhythm slowly creates a grounding for her. Her mind comes into focus.

How had she come to be in such a place? A place that once seemed so charming and full of opportunity is now a constant battleground. The wind, a constant force, threatens her every move. Its invisibility leaves her unaware. Its force leaves her dumbstruck. Its mercilessness leaves her drained. Each day is a battle against it.

To be continued….

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