The wild delta wind buffeted my car as I huddled near the door frame. I strained against the air and the cold as the sight of a thousand snow geese unfolded in the field below me. The slough ran north and the trees swayed. My fingers curled around the body of my little Canon.
Back in the car my head fell to the steering wheel. Long nights and the torture of hopelessly pinched nerves have driven me to sleepless hours of agony. As I rested, the snow geese rose into the wind. A hoarse whisper escaped me: So many endure so much worse so many so much worse. I can endure this new and awful malady.
I switched on the motor and backed out of the little lay-by. In a few minutes I joined the morning traffic journeying into the small town where I work. I held the steering wheel as softly as prudence allowed. At the light, my eyes drift closed as I leaned into a wave of pain. So many so worse so many so worse.
A noise brought me around. I peered through the windshield into the wide expanse of sky rising over the bridge. The flock had arrived. In formation they flew, west though they usually head east into the preserves near Lodi. My foot fell onto the gas. Together we made our way forward.
It’s the nineteenth day of the eighty-fifth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.