Boston’s Gale Thinks Very Little of My Winter Coat

Boston in winter
Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

The wind whips through the trees as they bend at an uncertain angle.


Trees were never meant to bend like that, and yet they do. It must have been the evolution of the trees that allows them to adjust so much to the disrespect of Boston’s wind.

I never knew trees could bend like that without breaking. They look fearsome in the night, whipping back and forth, and for a moment, I am singing.

“I whip my tree back and forth. Back and forth. Whip it.”

I have never been much of a lyricist, but at this moment, I believe I am bound for greatness. I have moments when I know for a fact I will regret staying in a place that stifles my creativity and needs to connect with another.

Like a bird, I wish to leap from my cage and float away to a new life. I do not hope to surrender to a life of cages and stage appearances.


Have you ever felt that way? That you are trapped and need to escape, less like 007 and more like a prisoner of malcontent.

I suppose that’s why I left.

You’ve seen it too. The way you look at yourself, you know that you aren’t doing enough. It breaks your heart, but what can you do? This is all you have ever known.

And then one day, you take a long look in the mirror, and the person that looks back has become a stranger. There are circles under your eyes, and maybe your skin now shows signs of malnourishment.

Maybe it is presumptuous of me to assume I know what you feel.
So let me be presumptuous.

I have watched so many people bend with the wind. It makes them flexible, but what if a windy area is not where they can thrive. What if they would do better in the desert?

We tend to stay rooted for far too long with indecision.
As I watched the trees bend and shake what the earth gave them, my Lyft came to rescue me from the cold.

No more did the wind ignore my coat and whisper about the things I thought about myself.

It was replaced by late-night radio and the feeling of relief.

There’s something special about driving on the highway late at night with the radio too low for listening but loud enough to keep you company. My driver looks back at me, and with uncertainty, he asks if I am on vacation.

There is hesitation hanging in the air as he waits for my response. “No, I just moved here.”

In these small moments, I am discerning my truth. I didn’t run away with two suitcases; I simply moved across the country with only two suitcases. I am not hiding from my past; I am reflecting on the fact that I chose to fly out of my cage.

We are our worst enemy, and for the longest time, I was searching for a savior. I wanted someone to take me away from my life and show me how lovely the world could be. It was hypocritical and, well, somewhat dumb.


So as my Lyft driver tried his best to make small talk about traveling and why plane tickets to smaller places are more expensive, I stop shaking.

My voice begins to resonate with the night, and I am happy.

And though happiness is fleeting and love is worth cultivating, I sit in the back of a car that is not my own and talk to a stranger as he drives me to a new life — a path I have chosen for myself.

If you enjoyed my writing, consider purchasing some of my books. Lilacs at Dawn or Ramblings

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