Stories From the Stoop: Wind & Grief
It has been a while since I’ve had an intentional moment to myself. I woke up before the rest of my household and decided it would be a nice time to sit on my front stoop and feel the world slowly wake up.
Coffee in hand, I took my seat on the chilly slab of concrete and just sat. There was a gentle, slightly cooler breeze blowing, reminding me fall is tiptoeing its way to us. The grayness of the rain clouds slowly began dispersing as the sun made its way through.
I closed my eyes and felt the gentleness of the breeze and listened to the sounds of the neighborhood slowly waking up — sounds that took me back to another time in my life.
Many moons ago I worked as the Production Stage Manager for the San Franciso Shakespeare Festival. We were rehearsing for Comedy of Errors in the beautifully diverse Mission in San Francisco. Rehearsals started at around 8:30 am or 9 — I can’t quite remember — which meant I needed to get there earlier to set up and just sit with the space to make it mine. (Perhaps an entry on that at another time) Once everything was ready to go I’d step outside and listen to the neighborhood wake up. I loved the Mission with its eclectic foods, the smell of pan dulce and other bread being readied for hungry patrons, bright murals, and diverse community.
There was one day during my morning routine when the always cloudly skies began to make way for sunshine. I vividly remember closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, and feeling the sun’s warmth on my face. It would be hours before I made my way outside again, at which point it would more than likely be dark. The cool breeze slowly brought me out of that moment of pure peace and readied me for my day.
What brought me to this time was the coolness and gentle quiet I experienced this morning. Always with its cool winds, San Francisco early in the morning is a glorious moment to experience, before the chaos and business of life began. Perhaps it's this pause in life that I love the most. It gives my heart time to expand and process — something I experienced this morning as well.
I looked up at the sky, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, watching the clouds disperse, and a cool breeze came toward me with its embrace. My thoughts and heart leaned into the grief of the recent loss of a friend and overall amazing human being. I miss her and her gentleness. The tears start streaming down my face and the heartache is sharp. I’m processing. I know this. I just hate it. It hurts. Just then, another cool breeze brought me back to the coolness of the stoop, the warmth of the sun, and the stillness of the neighborhood. I somehow felt her close. Taking a sip of my now lukewarm coffee, my heart hugs the memory of my friend ever so tightly. “I miss you,” I whisper to the wind. Another deep breath and I let go of this moment.
The silence and the wind can be both deafening and healing. Before I could delve any further into my thoughts and feelings my little upstairs neighbor and honorary family member, started yelling out the window, “Hi! Hi! Hi!” to nobody in particular. I knew it wouldn’t be long before my 5-year-old woke up. I closed my eyes and took another deep breath, before getting up and going back inside. Sure enough, my little one sleepily came out into the kitchen and motioned for me to pick her up. I did and for that moment, all was perfect in my world.
