The force that rouses and stirs us all is the same one that breathes into our bodies and gives us life. She is a woman, and her name is Wind.
Wind is so beautiful that there are songs written comparing beautiful women to her, and yet, no one really sees just how beautiful she is. She is beautiful because she is the daughter of Life and Love, and she seemingly inherited Life’s loveliness without her hardship, and Love’s pretty but not his pain.
Wind never knew she had the rockier facets of her parents until she was much older. She had always known control and gentleness, had swept the bottoms of little girls’ feet on swings and the grass in prairies.
She did not know what a storm she was, never knew she could be a tornado, and until she met her great love, Sea, she never knew what a great hurricane they could be.
She learned how to be a tornado when her mother knocked her flat on her feet. Life did that often. She would caress you and kiss your cheek, whisper an apology and kick you swiftly so that you fell and scraped your palms on the little pebbles on the ground.
But she would smile when her daughter reached within herself and lifted her spirit and the dirt up around in a funnel cloud.
And Love, holding his daughter’s hand, introduced his daughter to Sea. He understood when there was less and less summer breezes coming his way, because he also knew when she would storm back with tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
But he would smile when the wind and the sea became a hurricane.
And when the Wind was much older and wiser, she would embrace her son, the Tree, in warm gusts around him. Then she would make the skies dark and become a storm. But she always whispered in his ear, “I will rattle and shake you, but I will never forsake you.”