Sometimes the bad winds blow memories of you to me. When that happens all those emotions come back to me in the rush of the breeze. They sweep over me and knock me off my feet as I remember that what was and what could have been. Knocked off balance with the gust of emotion I remember the subtlety of the relationship that was but was not. It was like tracking that breeze through the sky without seeing the trees, invisible in the sky but felt on the skin.

We were a storm. You predicted it. You warned me, just like the National Weather Service. Just like those who decide to ride out the hurricane, I was deaf to the prognostication. I would survive the hurricane and defeat it. I would triumph and celebrate my victory and shake my fists at the receding storm. I was wrong. Just like those who decide to stay and face the Class V hurricane, I was devastated, lucky to survive with my life.