Today is another beautiful day in LA. Apart from the usual sun and infinitely blue sky, there is also a strong, cool breeze that might just be one of the last this fall. It dances about, rustling the leaves in the yard and making noises like a mischievous, happy child would during play. It runs here and there, picking up the fallen orange leaves of autumn and hurtles them uncaringly into the pool. First, one then another until it has created a whole armada. Then, like a fickle Poseidon, it breaks the stillness of the usually calm pool by making ripples that reverberate to the edges and undulates back to collide with the oncoming ones creating shaky diamonds in the water - a miniature sea-storm for the doomed fleet of leaves in the pool.
Transfixed, I open the large sliding door and invite the wind to come in, not caring if it sends the post-its and pieces of paper I stack neatly on my desk in a disarray when it does. True to form however, it remains distant and skittish, preferring to play its unrehearsed games alone leaving me envious and crestfallen.
Because of all this, a memory jostles itself from the recesses. The initially subtle glow it makes brightens ever so faintly with every step closer to recollection until I finally reminisce about how, as I sat within the confines of my highschool classroom, I daydreamed of traveling the world by transfiguring myself into the wind.