The wind ...

I didn't go running this morning.  Not because of the snow, which we did get, but because of the WIND.  Oh my lands, the wind we have today!!! 

We're not unused to wind, here in southern Idaho.  On a typical day, it manifests itself as a determined breeze.  On days like today, every trash can on the street has blown over, and it looks like the truck has already collected, because the trash is nowhere to be found ... until you get into the farmers' fields downwind, and the barbed wire looks like a clothesline. 

It reminded me of a few weeks ago, when the wind snatched a piece of paper from my daughter's hands at school pick-up.  Her face squished up and I knew she was about to cry, so I grabbed her hand and we dashed off across the parking lot after it.  Luckily, it hit a tree in front of the school and stuck, so we only had to chase ... well, maybe 200 feet across the crowded school pick-up before getting it.  *eye roll*

And do you know what that piece of paper was?

An ad.

No, seriously, it was an ad for a pediatric dentist or chiropractor or something that the teacher forgot to put in their homework folders so had instead handed out on their way out the door.  And we risked life and limb running through school pick-up to get it back.

Oy.

At least it works as fodder for my prompt this week!  Without any further ado, the prompt is:
"The winds snatched it from [his/her] hands..."

Enjoy!

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My response:

The wind snatched the origami butterfly from her hands.  It passed the edge of the cliff in moments, swirling higher and higher in the updraft.

Her mouth dropped open as she watched its frantic dance.  Only the cliff edge held her back.  It had happened too quickly.

She had meant to come and stand at the rim, contemplating her loss and talking to her mother, as if she were still there.  Then, when she was ready, she would have let the small paper fly.

But just like her mother's death, the butterfly was gone too soon.  Now she stood with empty hands and a hollow heart wondering what had just happened.

Elections

The post for this week is inspired by my friend, whose husband is running for a spot on the City Council of a small town.  With the election tomorrow, I asked her how she's doing.  She said the hard part is that they don't have the first clue how it's going to turn out.  There are no polls for a small town election, so while he could very well win, he may also walk away with only a few votes.  There's really no way to know ... and so they won't know until the votes are counted.

I would not trade all of my anxieties for this one of hers right now.

So, the prompt for this week is to write a bit about an election.  Make it a student body, homecoming queen, or even US President election, whatever you like.  Have fun!

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My response:

I walked into the courthouse with wings on my feet.  I felt like I'd off-loaded barrels of bricks from my shoulders.  Only the weight of my restored ego kept me down.

The swearing-in was scheduled for 10am, but I was there early.  Mostly for the photo op with the press.  It had taken fifteen minutes to get from my car to the front door - a distance I usually crossed in a matter of seconds.  Today everyone wanted to shake my hand and get my autograph.  After four years of serving my people, even more of them had grown to know and love me, and I knew I would keep fighting for them. 

It was us against the world, but as of the election yesterday, we'd won a major battle.

And it wasn't just that.  Four more years of a paycheck that would keep my children in the best schools.  Four more years of holding a position of respect, such that my ex couldn't mess with me like he had in the past.  Four more years. 

I was so ready.

"Annie?"  Suddenly my best friend, also a member of the legislature, but on the staggered term from my own, was at my elbow.  "Annie, you better get in here."

Her blue eyes were wide and wet as she pulled me into the main hall.  Everyone was there, which was expected, but I quickly picked out the problem.  The election clerk stood at the presentation table, a projector set up.

"... manipulated the vote in a number of the sectors.  We have identified the areas where the vote was tampered with, and these sectors will be removed from the total count of yesterday's election ..."

Someone tampered with the votes?  I only believed it for a split second.  Then the reality of the situation hit me.  They were getting rid of me.  Whether the people wanted me or not, the rest of the government was tired of putting up with me.  They'd had to come up with a way to get rid of me, and they'd done it.  Accuse me of tampering with votes.  Throw out the sectors where my supporters live. 

But they were wrong.  I wasn't done fighting, yet.