Metrosphere 2004-2005
The Wind
Mamma always had an affinity with the wind. On a gusty day, the wind would send the boys scurrying around any corner they could find, rubbing the dust from their red, teary eyes. Mamma would just stand there facing it, her arms held out wide and welcoming. She squinted against the dust as the wind ran its cool fingers through her hair and tugged up at the corners of her mouth.
Our house was perched halfway up the side of a hill. We had our fair share of windy days up on that hill. They say some people's moods are affected by the wind. Mamma's moods affected the wind. It always seemed that when Mamma was calm and content, there would be a lovely light breeze, caressing and fragrant; but when Mamma was mad, the wind would scream through the trees and slam against our house, throwing whatever particles it held, clattering against our windows.
Gramma told me a story about Mamma and the wind. Once when Mamma was a little girl, she and Gramma had been up at Badger Creek looking for wild mushrooms. It was a bright sunny day and there was no breeze to cool the sweat on their brows. Mamma was hungry and tired and started to pitch a fit. Just as Gramma was about to give her something to pitch a fit about, they heard it. It sounded like a freight train and was coming from a grove of trees at the bottom of the draw. The racket was loud enough and strange enough to completely distract Gramma from her whooping plans and it was headed their way. Out of the grove of trees came a whirlwind. It tossed up dirt and parted the grass in its path as it charted a zigzag course toward Mamma and Gramma. All the grass not in its path stood still and quiet, in perfect stillness. When it reached them it circled around Mamma, and then charged pell-mell up the hill.
Gramma said she was so addled she just stood there, slack-jawed and staring after it. Mamma turned around and ran straight up the hill after it. She was halfway up the hill before Gramma could pick her jaw up off the ground, shake her head and start chasing after her. By the time Gramma reached Mamma, they were near the top. Gramma reached one arm out like a shot and grabbed Mamma by the hair. Just in time, I guess, Gramma said you could see from here to Kansas on the top of that hill. The hill dropped straight back down, a thousand feet, back to the face of the earth, right at their feet.
When I was a small child, I imagined that Mamma was the wind. I was afraid that someday the wind would come up strong and mean, and she would just vanish into it, and it would be as if she had never even existed. I used to sit on the porch rocker and watch the breeze catch the wind chimes, spinning them around until they crashed against each other with noisy clinking and clanging sounds. I'd fall asleep and dream about clinking and clanging chimes and whirlwinds, and a little girl flying off a cliff and gliding down to the face of the earth, on the wings of a great gust of wind.
Mamma and Daddy were a smart looking couple. Mamma's thick brown hair framed a delicate face and lovely brown eyes. The hair on Daddy's head had all gone silver, but his mustache was still dark. Some folks said my Mamma's temper turned his hair that way, but his people had all grayed young. The ladies in town just couldn't help but look when Daddy walked by. All those ladies in town wouldn't go near him though, after that night.
Mamma and Daddy used to get all dressed up every Saturday night and go dancing at the grange. I can still remember them waving good-by to me as I sat, all folded up in Gramma's arms. Daddy would tower over Mamma. She would wrap her slender arm through his big strong one and lay her head against his chest. They had their troubles, but they painted a handsome picture together. Everyone could tell they loved each other.
I adored my Daddy. He used to take me with him and let me ride along when he helped the neighbors with their haying. Sometimes, when we got done after dark, he'd take me down to the Lions Club with him. He'd sit at the bar with his buddies, buy me a Coke and give me a handful of nickels to play the jukebox. Eventually we would head on home. Daddy would puff up his chest as he got to the stoop, I guess to get ready to face the trouble he expected he was in for, for taking me into the bar. Mamma would already be in bed, but she'd have our cold dinner all set out on the table, real pretty, so he would know we had hurt her feelings. Daddy would take his hat off and walk in the bedroom like a sorry puppy with his head down and his tail tucked between his legs. Momma never could stay mad at him for long.
Spring came late, summer rushed past and fall was a short season that year. Leaves barely had a chance to yellow before the snow came, turning them brown. The wind started up in late September, swirling about the tree branches and knocking their browned leaves to the ground. That was about the time it started. We had only gotten one good haying season in that year. Daddy started going to the Lions Club more and more often. Mamma would stand at the door all night long, staring out the window to the road. Every set of headlights would set her neck craning to see if it was Daddy.
By the time he finally came up the drive, she would be in bed. Daddy would walk in the room, hat in hand and hangdog looking. Mamma would yell and cry and carry on. I never could make out exactly what they said to each other. In my mind's eye, I could see Mamma crying and shooting words at Daddy like poison darts, and Daddy, so full of shame and regrets, grabbing Mamma, kissing her neck until she stopped trying to hurt him with her angry words. I had seen it a hundred times, Mamma so vicious, trying to kill him with her words and Daddy, playing Mamma like a fiddle.
Fall blew into winter, blustery and wicked that year. Mamma wore a spot on the carpet in front of the window at the door. One day, I think it was a Saturday because I noticed that Mamma and Daddy didn't go out dancing anymore, Mamma had been acting strange all day. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose was swollen and she dabbed at her eyes and sniffed all day. As the day wore on, I worried about my Mamma; she barely spoke a word. She just stared out the window.
At dinnertime, she was still standing sentry at the door, so I just got a bowl of frosted flakes and climbed into bed. I lay there for a long time, unable to sleep, listening to the wind get stronger and stronger until it threatened to peeled the paint off our house and tear the shingles off our roof. The bells in Mamma's wind chime clacked together furiously.
I don't know when I finally fell asleep. Late that night, Mamma came in my room. She bundled me up in my old quilt, the one Gramma made for me, and hustled me out into her old station wagon. I asked where we were going, but she didn't seem to hear me. She took the washboard road head on. My teeth chattered and the car rattled against the endless ruts. She finally turned onto E Street and parked in front of the Lions Club. Daddy's old pickup was parked at the side, in mute confession. Mamma came around to my side of the car, opened the door and waited for me to follow her inside. When we reached the door, she took a deep breath and grabbed my hand. Hand in hand, Mamma and I walked in together.
It took me a bit to find Daddy in there. It wasn't that there were very many people there it was just that I didn't recognize him holding onto someone else, someone other than Mamma. As Mamma and I watched, Daddy was holding a redheaded lady tight. They were dancing real slow, to some low sweet song from the jukebox. He put his head down and kissed her neck, just like I'd seen him do to Mamma a hundred times. The redheaded lady put her head back and giggled. Daddy lifted his head up just in time to look straight into Mamma's eyes. I couldn't quite describe the look on his face. It was something like the look my cousin Joey Jr. got on his face when his Mamma caught him playing with himself out on the porch swing. As I looked back and forth from Mamma to the redheaded lady and back to Mamma, it occurred to me that Mamma was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her hair hung loose and long around her face and down her back. Her eyes shone bright with tears. She held her head so high, like a queen. Mamma just turned her back on Daddy and that woman and walked out of there. The only one who knew she was losing it was me, because my shoulder ached from where she pulled me around to leave, and my fingers were numb because she held them so tight. I looked over my shoulder just in time to catch Daddy pushing the redheaded lady away and chasing out the door after Mamma and I.
Mamma stuffed me in the front seat of the car and turned back around just as Daddy came rushing out, shouting her name. It was then that I noticed the perfect stillness. There was no wind; there were no other voices, no cars. It was as if we were the only beings left on earth. Daddy stood in front of the building's glass door, and Mamma just stood looking at him, her breath forming white clouds under her nose. The redheaded lady stumbled out of the door after Daddy, and yelled something at Mamma. Mamma didn't respond; she just ignored her like she wasn't even there. I rolled down my window a tiny bit to try to hear what they were saying, but their voices hung just outside my ear. The redheaded lady stood swaying on her high heels, pointing and hollering at Mamma. Mamma still ignored her.
I heard it coming from the trees across E Street. It sounded like a freight train, loud and angry. No one believes me, but I saw it myself. The whirlwind seemed like it came from nowhere. It came spinning and churning from across the street toward Mamma and Daddy and the redheaded lady. The redheaded lady saw it too and started screaming and stomping her feet and pointing at it. It came closer and she was running but not getting anywhere, just like a cartoon. It came up on Mamma, but it seemed like it went around her and headed toward Daddy. It got louder and angrier the closer it got to him. Mamma just watched, as it headed for him. Daddy stood there frozen and staring at it. He screamed just before the whirlwind slammed into him.
Daddy went flying through the glass door of the Lions Club. Glass exploded in all directions with the impact of his body. The wind roared, the redheaded lady screamed and Mamma just stood there watching, her face shining white. I thought I saw a faint smile on her lips, but it may have only been the play of the neon sign on her face. I never was sure. Suddenly everything was quiet, except for the redheaded lady screaming by the door. She had a long jagged cut across her face. She pulled at her hair and babbled incoherently to anyone who would listen about the wind, but no one believed her. Daddy lay in a heap on the floor in the doorway. Blood ran down the step toward the street as snow started to fall. As all hell broke loose on E Street, Mamma got in her station wagon and headed home, with me curled up on the floor of the car, crying.
Daddy recovered from the wounds he received that night. I can't say that I ever recovered from mine. Mamma and Daddy worked through the rough spots in their marriage and eventually everything seemed to return to some semblance of normalcy. Mamma forgave Daddy; at least that's how it looked. Once in a while, though, the wind would rise up, moaning and wailing, through the hills. Mamma would look like all was right with the world, but Daddy's hands would start to shake and his face would turn gray as ash.
I grew up and moved down to the city. A few years later I got married and started my own family. Daddy passed from a stroke a few years ago. Mamma died in her sleep just last week. I came back home to close up the house and pack up their things. Sitting on the porch swing, I noticed the wind chimes hanging from the eaves, in perfect stillness. My daughter was born a few months ago. She is beautiful and she reminds me of her grandmother. When she took her first gulp of breath she shrieked at the insult of it, and a gust of wind kicked up and threw whatever particles it held, against the hospital window.