Mother

I taste the wind. I feel the rain. There is a subtle browness to it all. I think I'll go out today. The air seems clean today. Maybe the weather will wash my cares away. Maybe it won't.

I can see people outside. They rush to and fro. They get wet. They get drenched. I think they want to be in. I want to be out. I wish i could stop them all and let them see.

The wind blows through my hair. I see the rain splash against the hardwood floor. I wonder if the rain get in. I wonder if I left the window open. I can see words forming in the air, in the windy sky.

A woman rushes in. She's holding a towel and screaming. The floor is wet and I am wet, drenched through. I back away from the window and she slams it shut. There's a mess again.

The rain is wiped away. She is still angry, but it's different now. She hugs me and coos. I think it will be okay now. I know there is something I don't know. I know I'm missing something that isn't there.

We sit and she talks, but I am far away. I see the color in her cheek, in her lips, in her hair, in her eyes. I am a distant traveler wandering alien terrain.

Everything is fine now. I nodded my head when she was done. I pretended to see things the same. My mother is happy. She makes us tea. She makes everything okay.