Now, I don’t know much, but I do know that the breeze is the best part of the day. And that goes for today, yesterday… any day, really. It can make the trees dance, make me switch from shorts to pants, and even change my whole plans. It really, really can.
For starters, anything that isn’t moving is dead, they say. So as far as I’m concerned, it’s the breeze that keeps the outside alive. It can knock the tree off the leaf and Little Stevie off his feet; I love the grin it grins every time we meet.
One day, I wanted to feel the breeze so bad that I decided to go for a walk. I was alone when I first started, but that was short-lived because not long after I began, I ran into a cardinal. Yeah, a cardinal; like the red bird. They say they’re supposed to be good luck, or whatever, which at first sounded weird to me. But the more I watched her flap, flap, flapping her wings in the breeze the way she does, I started to become a believer.
Then, that little birdie told me a secret; she said that the outside made her feel alive and it was nothing but the breeze that could stoke her high. This bird really was some kinda fly. And I still see her from time to time.
Oh! And there was another time I wanted to feel the breeze so badly that I woke up and bought a damn bike. A red one, at that. It wasn’t all that cheap, but my logic was simple: I figured that even on those days when the breeze didn’t show, I could create it with my own two legs, you know?
And it was a good plan, because sometimes the only thing I can manage to do is simply put one foot in front of the other. Round and round and round, with my cheeks flap, flap, flapping in the wind the way they do. In those moments, I know I’m making something out of nothing… just like an alchemist, I guess. All we can ever do is our best.
And then was yet another time I wanted to feel the breeze so damn bad that I let my sun roof back, rolled the windows down, and threw on some music to take the long way home. It turns out the breeze had more rhythm than me! Not sure why I was surprised, really. My thoughts, the loudest one-man band in the land on any other occasion, became but shrinking violets in the presence of that breeze. “Now that’s alchemy”, I thought to myself.
I stuck my fingers out the window and watched them get to flap, flap, flapping the way they do and I couldn’t help but smile. And as I leaned in, I was reminded of that one boy from that one book who turned into the breeze his damn self.
Actually, I once knew a man named Breeze. And he loved that one book. In fact, I still know a man named Breeze, and he still loves that one book. My only guess is that it makes him feel alive too.
Now, where was I?
Oh yeah… there was this other time I wanted to feel the breeze so bad, I cracked my bedroom window before I fell asleep. Just as cool as I was warm, I was whisked into a mid-summer night’s dream, far sweeter than anything Shakespeare could have ever written. Well, at least to me.
I fell asleep to my curtains’ hypnosis; they were flap, flap, flapping the way they do as I thought about my day; my life. And because anything that is not moving is simply not alive, I woke up and repeated this all over again, walking, pedaling, riding and sleeping — each day more fluid than the last. Finding life, embracing it, harnessing it, and truly feeling — you know what I mean?
Maybe we could all learn a little more from the breeze. And though I don’t know much of nothing myself, I do know that the breeze is the best part of the day. Today, yesterday, or any day. Okay? Okay.