The wind skids across my face and I am the obstruction. My shirt ripples like a flag in a storm. My pants wrap around the backside of my legs and hide like shy children behind their mother. I am the target of fury and I do not care. The leaves fly screaming around me, helpless. The plastic bags run like rabbits across the parking lot and jump the curb, digging into the ground with their fingernails as they go, begging the wind to release. And I do not care. A drop of rain on my wrist. And I do not care. Electric air manifests itself in streaks across the gray horizon. And I do not care.

I am your lighthouse. Your north star. And I will not move until our fingers connect like locks and keys and my heart opens its front door. Home will be a reality.

The wind moans in my ear, but carries no news. A tear mingles with the rain on my face. And the wind barrels on. And I do not care.