2-9-93

A girl walks along the riverbank, quietly watching two dogs play in the shallow edges. She sits down on a moss-covered tree stump and looks to the other side of the river. A steep hill and many bare trees wait her gaze. The dogs bark and she turns her head to the noise, but nothing is there. "As always," she thinks," nothing is ever there when I look."

"Oh, but it is. You just won't see it," the wind tells her.

"Won't see it?" she questions. "How can I force myself not to see something I am looking for?"

"You are expecting the wrong things," the wind says. "Expect nothing, and you shall see much."

The girl went back to her brooding and forgot her conversation with the wind. She absorbed herself with watching the river flow over the rocks and tree limbs, stumbling over obstacles, but still flowing. She envied the river. She started to dabble her feet in the water when she heard the dogs bark again. This time she did not turn towards the noise, but listened. She heard nothing and walked further into the river, up to her shins. The water was cool and fast. The current was strong. She walked in to her knees, and she was so absorbed that she did not hear the dogs back again. She started to slip on a rock and as she put out an arm to stop her fall, she felt two strong arms pick her up and carry her back to the riverbank. She turned around to thank the person, whoever it was, and no one was there.

"You're welcome," said the wind. "Listen, and I will tell you more."

The girl learned many lessons from the wind before she moved away from the river. But, to this day, you will see her go silent when she feels a breeze. She knows not when the wind will speak again.

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The contents of these pages are copyright 1996 by Jennifer Kelbaugh. Said contents may not be published for profit or restricted without the express written permission of the author. For the purposes of this notice, the author of all contents on this page is Jennifer Kelbaugh.