Breeze

What is it that makes a breeze so comforting?

I rest my head on my notebook and feel the breeze tickle my hair and brush my pants against my legs. I feel the heat of the sun. I notice that in the silence, I hear crickets chirp, leaves rustle, and a faint chopping sound coming from the kitchen.

I hear the breeze first before I feel it. Almost like waves of leaves swaying, deeper and further way to closer and more urgent. It's a crescendo of sound until the very moment the breeze falls on my face. Then all becomes silent for just a moment before the symphony starts again.

I take a deep, satisfying breath when the breeze reaches me. There are hundreds of scents carried on its wings that I try to identify. I only manage to capture some of them before the feeling passes: a light sweetness from the nearby flowers; freshly baked bread - it's the brown sugar and yeast I smell; earthy brown leaves that tells me fall is coming; and something else - something clean and fresh - is that the breeze/air itself?

So going back to the question of why? It's simple. In these moments I feel. There aren't the usual to-do's running around in my head. I'm here. Now. This is what the present feels like: fresh, warm, sweet.