North Naples, FL – February 23, 2013
I hate the wind. It feels so relentless and unavoidable. It wears into me, eats at me, pushes and pushes and pushes like a bully.
I only want to go a short ways, but the wind keeps shoving me backwards and I feel like that snail stuck in the well that ends up on every math test, the one that crawls three feet up every day then slips back two at night and the teacher just wants to know when he will ever get out of the well. Maybe that snail just lives in that well and won’t ever get out and go eat fried grouper and key lime pie or whatever it is that snails eat.
But the snail is always polite and I am not. So I yell at the wind. Then I plead. Then I mock it and tell it that I don’t care, that it can’t stop me, that I will paddle right though its teeth and it can’t do anything about it.
And that’s true, of course, part of it. I can paddle through its teeth, but it’s also a lie because I do care. I care a lot, because the wind is brutal and leaves me wrecked and slipping backwards two feet for every three and that is bad math if you want to get anywhere fast.