Nineteen Years Ago
Adelaide
I stared out the window at the bare skeletons of trees bending and swaying, pushed and pulled by the winter winds. They were like me and I was like them, a kinship of sorts, both submitting to external forces.
Do I have a choice?
Like the Tanya Tucker song said, be strong enough to bend.
Ignoring all else, I continued my voyeurism. The world beyond the windowpane sparked with electricity: a flash of lightning followed by a crash of thunder. The momentary strike brought light to the shadows, illuminating fallen leaves swirling in a primitive dance. Eventually the pounding rain brought their song to an end, capturing and damning them to the cold, wet ground. The Savannah temperature wasn't low enough to snow, yet the scent of winter hung heavily in the air
