I hate the wind. It scares me. When I was a kid, I used to freak out when the wind blew, and lord help anyone near me if something was swinging (I know, I am a very strange person). While I grew out of my fear of things that swing, I never did quite grow out of my fear of the wind. When I was younger, and it was still socially acceptable to have a bed covered in stuffed animals, I would pile all of the stuffies around me, and use them to block out the sound. As I got older, I noticed the wind less and less, and a few years ago I got help blocking out the wind from a little thing called Trazadone. I knew that places like Chicago weren’t for me. Any place called the Windy City promised a few sleepless nights for me. I liked my California bubble, with few windy days, and a lots of sunshine.
It never occurred to me that the wind would be so violent here. On a windy day, I could very easily get blown over on my way to school. The only thing that saves me most days is my heavy book bag and my wellies. The wind here blows snow and rain in your face, and makes the most awful sound when coming through poorly insulated windows. For the last few days the wind has been howling at night, bringing with it rain against the windows, and uncovering a childish fear. This time there are no stuffies to pile around me to make me feel comforted and safe. I’m not afraid of the wind now (I know that it can’t hurt me, and all those comforting things parents say to their kids when they are young and afraid), but I still don’t like the wind, and still wish that I was at home in bed curled up with my cat, or with David (even though he does not understand why I don’t like the wind). Tonight will be one of those nights where I throw on a podcast so that I fall asleep to the sounds of familiar voices rather than to the sounds of the wind.
Since I spent most of the day sleeping, I will need all the sleep I can get now, so that I do not repeat the trend tomorrow.