Inherently Different

The One Where I Write Just To Write

The sky was falling at the time. Not all at once as the children’s tale goes, but in little drops. Good for the Earth, but bad for me. I hated the rain and everything that was born of it. Green isn’t among my favorite colors, which is why I moved here to the desert when it was all said and done.

The sand blows everywhere of course, but isn’t that better than dealing with mold, moss or rot? Someone once said there was something called dry rot. I haven’t noticed anything rotting out here, not even the barn which must be as old as the sand that builds up on one side, then drifts to another.

Out here, all alone, in the desert, I think I know what it is like to be lost at sea, adrift and at the mercy of the wind. The barn is my ship and the sands are my sea. I’m surprised that the sand hasn’t swallowed me up along with everything I own. Of course, I know the reason. I sometimes like to pretend that I don’t. But I do.

The sand witch loves me. That sounds funny, I know. Most times, people might say that they love a sandwich now and again, but it works in reverse for me since that isn’t the type of witch I’m dealing with.

Part of me wants to believe that I was being controlled by the sand witch even back in the when in which I lived where the sky was falling in little drops. I mean, I like water when it is standing still, but I found myself battling an irrational fear when it hit me on the head and fell from the sky. That was the sand witch’s meddling I am sure.

So here I sit, alone and waiting for the sand witch to come and claim what she has won in this fools game. I hated the rain it is true… but isn’t sand just as annoying?