“It’s windy up here.”
I turned to my left. An old woman stood beside me, gazing out over the water. She looked familiar somehow, but I didn’t have time to place her before she spoke again, softly: “And lonely.”
All of a sudden I felt tears burning in my eyes, and I couldn’t speak.
She is me.
Years from now, I will be standing there, looking at the water. I will be proud, pleased with what I have done. I will feel accomplished, appreciated, grateful, honoured….and I will be looking into the distance with that same knowledgeable look in my eyes.
I can feel it already: the wind is getting more powerful. It pulls my, pushes me around. It tries to get me off balance, tries to distract me from what I want to do. It has been playful up until now, but recently…it is changing tone. Up here is …intimidating. Not threatening (few things scare me), but harsher, sharper. Not nice.
I am higher up now, and I am less sheltered. I am more visible, more exposed. I am a target. and that leads to a question: Do I back down? Do I take shelter? Do I retreat?
I turn to tell her that I know what she means, but there is nobody there. I am alone.
It is windy, but I knew it would be.
It is lonely, but I brought friends.
Buckle up if you want to take me for a ride, because nothing scares me. I’ve already been through rougher weather than anyone can ever imagine.