.. there is a season in southern california, the late fall. now. and comes with it the santa ana winds. i heard about it, how it effects girls hair, dries up the land, brings dust and asthma. i was awaiting these winds to find nothing.
until last night. when i was still and realized they are here. and they have been but that i am never still enough to feel hear or know the world around me.
see, the santa ana winds are not storm like. they do not knock down trees or bring floods. they are subtle. very quiet and slow. the wind creeps around the trees and leaves, making only a few golden leaves fall to the floor. only if you are still. only if you are quiet and observant can you feel it.
last night a good friend was mugged. of crouse early and in front of her own apartment. its sad and very invasive and shocking when things like that happen. she was well cared for. i cooked brussel sprouts. and we ate cookies. we were grown up but not really.
at home alone, i sat in silence outside. the winds were here. who knows how long they went unnoticed by my busy mind.
i was wondering why anyone ever actually feels old. or is it a post 20’s thing. it can’t be, because people my age, people like me all around are refering to themselves as old. that OLD 24th, 25th, 29th birthday. makes no sense to me. everything is still so new. our jobs, our loves, out life, our friends, it is new. i am just starting to feel and be and then feel myself being myself. me. because my adult life, my pay check, my car problems, my city, my cooking for the friend who was just mugged, my silencing winds. these are new things and for longer than not, i was a child and i still am. perhaps when these adult situations, these grown up feelings pile on and on and on oer the decades, perhaps then we can be bitter, and be “old”. when the car has broken down 10 times, the love has left 20 times, the promotions, the investment, the friends, the laughter, the crying.. when these things have cylcled around and around around until they have flowed through me countless times, perhaps then i can consider myself old.
or maybe getting old is just as sublte as the wind. sit quiet and listen. you can hear it ans see it in the dark air.
>>>andwelove<<< 