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The Wind ©
                                        

            Lindsey came through the door with a burst of leaves and wet twigs.  "The weatherman didn't forecast this wind—" The oven door in the kitchen squawked like it does when it's being closed.  "There's nothing worse than wind and rain— " . . . still no response.  "Hello— "
           "Hi honey, wow!  What happened to your umbrella?"
           "The wind— "
           "And it was your purple one too."
           "What smells so good?"
           "Spaghetti . . . the French bread just went in.  I'‘ll be ready by the time you change into something dry."
           "Did you use the cream recipe I like so well for the sauce?"
           "You bet.  I went out earlier, before the wind hit, for the wine.  It was so warm out, I knew something was about to happen . . . I put half in the sauce and we'll drink the rest with dinner . . . the wine, I mean."

           The table was set, two plates, napkins, silver, and wine glasses.  Two candles flickered mixing their smoky fragrance with the wine sauce and garlic bread.  A soft light from the front hall cast long shadows across the table and on the wall beyond.  A 70's instrumental played softly in the background.
           Lindsey was glad to be in dry clothes, warm again, and finally, distancing from the stress of her busy day.  She sat at the table across from Drew watching the flickering reflection dance on her wine glass.  A safe haven, she was thinking, as she melted into the mood.  The aroma still lingered, reminding her of the night he gave her the CD that was playing.  It was on their seventh anniversary.  He loved to cook and the meal was very much like tonight's.  It stood out in her mind as the most perfect evening in their marriage.  All the petty differences in their relationship had vanished.  It seemed they moved from life in a physical sense to something very close to a spiritual thing. 
          The next morning, the demands of the day pulled them both back to the real world.  Since then, she thought of that night often.  She reasoned that if Drew thought about it, he didn't seem to want to acknowledge it and she wondered why.    Maybe he had been remembering our special night after all.  It was obvious that he was trying to recreate it . . . the same music, food, and the smile that always melted her willpower.
           They had finished their meal and sat enjoying another glass of wine.  Drew was holding his glass with one hand and tapping the table with the other in time to the music.  Lindsey reached for his hand.  He responded and their eyes met.  At that moment, the wind intruded.  An empty potato sack blew against the terrace window and held tight.
           "I put that sack in the garbage can this afternoon."
           "Oh no—  "
           "Don't worry.  I'll clean it up tomorrow."   The moment was gone.  "I heard the honkers today," he continued.
           "This late?  I thought their migration ended a month ago."
           "There are usually a few stragglers who stay behind.  You look sensual tonight."  He tried to recapture the mood.
           "I remember my grandmother telling Mom that sensual means . . . sexy, seasoned.  I'm not old yet." 
Why did I say that?  He's trying so hard, but something's just not right.
           The grandfather clock in the living room struck ten and Lindsey stretched big before rising.  "I think I'll get ready for bed."
           "Lindsey—  " He followed her to the bedroom.  There was something he wanted to talk about.  She knew that but his timing was off now.  He caught up with her again in the bathroom.
           "It's an easy guess that you either spent a big wad of money today or you want to spend the week-end with your brother, hunting."  She was smoothing green gunk on her face.  One curl slipped from the hair clamp falling into a glob of green on the side of her neck.
           "You look sexy . . .  " He moved closer, attempting to kiss the curl.
Lindsey turned to face him.  A look of exasperation clearly showed through the eye holes in the green mask.
           "That's not sexy!  Come on baby, loosen up.  It was a great buy and you can Learn to play pool.  First chance you get, go buy yourself a new umbrella."
                                                                                                                                           
Sheryl Hamilton Chaney