A Windy Day

I hate the wind. It immediately takes me back to childhood memories of living in a wind blown desert town enveloped by the hot Santa Anas.

When in grade school, one of my earliest memories was the wind howling in the eucalyptus tree that were the wind break which bordered my home to the north. I could not sleep well on those nights. In the morning, branches and bark would regularly be found all over the place with the dust and debris the wind tossed about the night before. I have those howling sounds permanently ingrained into my psyche now and they stir each time when the wind blows.

When in high school, I remember one time after a new gym roof was finished, it somehow found its way to the blacktop in pieces because of the Santa Ana winds and shoddy workmanship which lacked tar. Sheets of torn roofing materials and roofing nails danced around the volleyball courts like tissue paper. We were all sent home from school that day due to liability reasons.

Also when in high school, I had to walk a little over a mile home from school with a book bag backpack that was probably close to half my bodyweight. My girlfriends and I would walk toward the wind in a degreed stance in order to stay standing on our feet. Dust would be found in places you didn't even think the wind would of touched, but it did leaving its dusty fingerprint behind.

I think that my one cat named Girlie hates the wind almost as much as I do. From the time of being a kitten until today, she will meow in discust as the trees wiggle to her dismay. I really think she's pissed off because she does not hear the birds chirping when it's windy.

I know my son is also a casuality of the wind. too, sneezing when the dust stirs. I can hear him now from where he is sitting infront of this computer in his room.