The Wind and I

While working outside at my parent’s house I can feel the summer sun warming my skin. I smell the freshness of the country filling the air. I hear the wind rustling the hay that has yet to be cut in the pasture next door. I stand there a prisoner held captive by nature and her rich bounty.

Then I feel the wind pulling at my clothes demanding my attention. You see the wind and I are old friends. I enjoy the time we share for his restlessness lets me imagine what it would be like to absolutely spontaneous. I have often wondered what it would be like to break the bonds of this world and sail off on a breeze, with no thought of direction or destination. So, when he has the time to spare, the wind and I share stories.

He tells me of far away places and strange looking people, as usual, I speak of you. Imagine my surprise when, after all this time he tells me he knows you. He reminds me it was he who held our kites at the beach. He says he enjoyed how yours danced for a while. He says that he has blown cooling breezes your way on several hot days. He even says that when he can he tries to keep the clouds above you so you don’t get too much sun. I have wanted to ask him the past several days to whisk me away and be taken to you, but the wind is getting old (even older than I) and seems so tired that I don’t want to bother him.

I did however; ask him to do for me a small favor. Knowing it shouldn’t tire him out, I asked him to carry messages from my heat to yours. But, he begins to explain that he is not allowed and comes up with all sorts of excuses. But all his blustering won’t put me off so I remind him that no matter how much I would love to travel the world as he does, I cannot because my feet are tied to this earth but oh how my heart longs to soar among the clouds. He reluctantly agrees but he will carry only one. Now the wind can be cantankerous at times and is apt to forget the message. So I think of a message light enough so he doesn’t get tired and short enough for him to remember.

So next time you are outside of the city where all is quiet pause for just a moment. Let the summer sun warm your beautiful face. Smell the clean scent of the country lingering in the air. When the wind wraps his arms around you and caresses your cheek think of me. And perhaps, if you’re still enough, if your eyes are closed, and you listen with all your heart you just might hear me, whispering your name.

The Other Day...

First let me warn you this is a typical Nathan story, probably not near as funny as I think it is but probably as funny as Grandma’s Kitchen. So if you continue reading consider yourself warned.

Ok, so the other day (yes it really was the other day this time) I was at work. I don’t remember what I was doing but, I was working out on the floor performing some menial task I am sure. When I hear, oops hang on a sec if forgot to tell you something.
At the store where I work there is a new display that has posters and poster frames on it. The frames are pretty cheap. The posters are supposed to be for back to school. So, they have ones like: all of the characters from the Simpons, or the Pink Floyd prism album cover, or All I know I learned in Kindergarten … etc.
So, I was working out on the floor performing some menial task and thinking to myself, when I hear two ladies behind me. I glance over my shoulder as most would do just to put a face with the sound. It was two old ladies (yes older than me) with grey hair and all looking at the poster display and talking. I don’t remember what I was thinking. It was probably something like its time to change my MySpace pic, hmmm, what should I use … ah, I know, I will use the pic of Nathan Patrelli flying that Tim Sale did. Or something like that, who knows? Anyway my brain decided at that time to divert all attention from thinking to listening.

Lady #1 says “Hey, remember this game?”

“Oh, yes it that was so much fun to play.” says lady #2.

Now those of you who actually read this will no doubt understand that thinking is oh so much faster than speaking, let alone typing. So I started trying to reason in my head, at which poster they were looking. And what kind of game would be fun to the geriatric crowd?

Tiddlywinks? Hopscotch? Marbles? Pick-Up Sticks? Jacks? Ants in the Pants?

“Yeah, last time I played that I got so hammered” says lady #2.

Don’t Break the Ice?

Lady #1 answers with, “Your right, Beer Pong is so much fun!”