The Wind Talker
I make friends when walking down a street, because a Jay is pretty good at that and I talk with lots of things. And some of them are pretty surprised a Jay can talk to them – sometimes even that they can talk! – but my new friend isn’t at all.
“I have an uncle who is a tornado.”
“Everyone talks about him. Not just
other winds. The waves. Storms.” The zephyr let’s out a sigh
smaller than it is. “Even the earth knows his name.”
“Oooh! So you’re all kinds of
sad-face about being a gentle breeze?!”
“Yes. I’ve felt you change winds.
Move storms. Make things – more. Bigger. Terrifying!” Each word a
gust, and after the zephyr barely manages a whisper: “Change me.
“Jaysome is jaysome; it doesn’t
have to be like that you know!” I stop walking so it isn’t tired
when following a Jay. No one else is about. “Honcho knows that
change isn’t always a helping. Sometimes help is learning to be
you, not wanting to be other things. It’s a happiness if no
one knows your name like they know tornadoes and typhoons and lots of
other things starting with t I bet!”
“But I’m so small.”
“Uh-huh. And they were too once. They
grew, and you can too: but you don’t have to grow the way they
did. You can be big and not be feared!”
The breeze quivers when I’m firm like
a Jay, but keeps on going too!
“But you are big. You are Jay, of the
bindings, and the wind that howls between the worlds knows your
“Well, I am jaysome. But
that’s me being me and making friends and doing loads of helpings.
Being big is more this -.”
And I reach, for a moment. Down inside,
but also sideways and upside-ahead as well. It’s not waking up. (it
hurts.) It’s not – it –
I let go. Push it away, and back, and
far to the edges of jaysome. I think I almost don’t manage it, but
I’m not sure because it’s the biggest binding I’ve ever done!
I’m sweating and I have a headache, which is pretty new and my head
doesn’t want to stop aching.
“… that is very big,” the zephyr
says in a voice so small I almost don’t hear it.
“Uh-huh! There are lots of kinds of
big, and some bigs even a Jay doesn’t want to be. Being small is
better since it’s hard to big like a storm and not hurt and have
people scared of you!”
“Thank you,” the breeze says, and
goes off to be a breeze and nothing like a storm at all!
I head back to the hotel and hope
Honcho can help with my headache.