Waiting for the Wind

It is 1 AM and I am awake, waiting for the wind.

When I drifted off to sleep around 10:30 PM, there was no wind. And, it was warm. I ran the fan.

I awoke a couple of times, drenched.

I used to think I knew the meaning of that word.

Drenched.

I did not.

Rascal awoke the same time that I did. My daughter and friends know why.

It is so quiet. No movements. Car lights come shining in over the wall for a moment and are then gone. The shower is dripping into the tub waiting below.

The rooster is not crowing. No dogs barking. No planes flying overhead.

So, putting on sandals, Rascal and I move to the outer courtyard. Sami is there.

He is just heading to bed. Worries that something is wrong.

No, just waiting for the wind.

Each night it is the same thing. Between midnight and 2 AM, the wind will pick up and it will blow into the house. The fan gets turned off.

Rascal is so quiet.

There is something reassuring about this desert routine. The repetitions in its life that I have come to know and love.

I will miss this routine. The waiting for the wind.

Ah.

Here she is.