The wind makes me sad and fills me with an elusive longing. The sound of it rushes into me and stirs me so I feel too anxious to talk. On windy days – if I can help it – I’ll sit or lie on my bed and make myself still. I feel as flimsy as crepe paper and this adds to my melancholy misery.
I mentioned a part of this to a friend one day, after a catch up girls-only-weekend, when we parted on a windy day, leaves blowing all about at the windows, and she said she knew what I meant – that it makes her feel the same way.
And it struck me as I looked at her, how similar we were, and I wondered why we didn’t find more time to spend together than we did.