Being an only child in Carlisle can be a little lonely and boring at times. Ever since I can remember, I was always looking for a friend and something to do. The outdoors became a very important part of my life. The weather took on a personality. Hidden growths and underbrush became my exclusive hideaways. Of all the natural phenomena, the wind was my favorite and over time became my friend, like an old stuffed animal or clung-to doll.

The wind was animate and alive with mystical wisdom of the world and a passion for life. The wind would whistle through the huge trees in the back of the yard. Like an understanding mother, the trees’ trunks would tremble and the leaves would quiver and rustle like murmurs of consolation. That small whisper of consolation became my savior and my friend. I told my new friend every accomplishment, and he in turn would rock the trees until they swelled to a roar of thunderous applause. He was always ready to applaud me. I would walk outside to the greeting of my screaming fans and take a bow. When I was sad, the wind would swirl around me like a hug or a pat on the back.

I took to the wind so much because it was larger than life and was omniscient. I could interpret its whispering rustles in any way I wanted. I would play games and try to guide the wind with my hand. I cannot tell you how many times I asked to fly and in turn the wind would tell me, like a shrewd mother, that I would have to wait. Of course it was impossible to fly but the wind’s answer was easier to accept.

I asked the wind many questions, but I already know the answers. I would confide in my alter-ego like a beloved teddy bear. The wind would accept all my secrets and never judge me. He never told me a secret in turn, but I accepted this, for the wind was so wise and all-powerful. One never questioned one’s best friend.

As I grew older, the wind became less of a friend and more of a release. I loved to run in the field with a cool breeze surrounding me. I would dance in the swirling mass of air. It was like swinmming under water. There was no one around but the outdoors and me. The wind would block out signs of civilization and blow the grass like a thick carpet. With the increasing stresses of being a teenager, a day in the sun with bare feet seemed the only freedom that could relieve the tensions of the real world.

Slowly my friend and I drifted apart. I had a busier life and he was content to blow the trees without me.

Now I have no time to greet my old friend and barely see him. My idol and consicence has slowly changed into the guise of a weather pattern and now barely speaks to me. Now I have to rely on my judgment completely and I have grown independent … I miss it, but also understand the long ago friend who left … of course every so often it peeks its head out at me and waves.