Daughter of the Winds

Eight year old Jennifer Daley hated being in church. What Jenny - as she was called by her mother and her friends - especially hated about church was the ancient, uncomfortable pews. It felt like she was sitting on concrete and whenever she moved around to stop her bottom from falling asleep, the scratchy, smelly cushion that stretched across the long pew would slip about and her mother would give her an angry look and tell her to stop squirming. Swinging her legs or folding paper airplanes out of the church service or making hand-puppets to dramatize the sermon would all likewise elicit clandestine swats from her mother or terse words in not-quite-whispers that drew disapproving glances from the elderly couple that sat ahead of them. Jenny always wanted to stick her tongue out and make ugly faces back at them, but knew that she'd just get another swat from her mom, and one far worse than she got for swinging her legs.

It wasn't that Jenny was a bad girl, or even particularly rowdy - there was just something about the church that made her restless. Perhaps it was the hot, soupy, air of the crowded church, which stunk of the perfume and sweat and excitement of too many people crammed too closely together, and always made her feel like she was about to suffocate. Or maybe it was the droning, toneless, unrecognizable hymns of the congregation. The bizarre paintings of flowers and old men that decorated the church didn't help, as Jenny always felt that their sad, ghost-like eyes were watching her. The Pastor's monotonous sermons, delivered in a bored and uncaring tone, seemed to stretch on for eternity. No matter how hard she tried to understand what the bald, sweating, fat man said, she always found herself overtaken by the grey ocean waves of his meaningless words. And the potted rubber tree in the corner of the church didn't bring a feeling of the outdoors inside - it served to remind her just how artificial an environment the church was.

Everything about church made her bored and sleepy, so that she wanted to curl up in the sun with a blanket and her cat Barkley and take a mid-morning nap. Everything, that is, except the giant crucified Jesus that hung behind the Pastor. It was extremely life-like, so that you could even see the veins sticking out of his arms and the way that his teeth were gritted in pain. His hair was matted with blood from the crown of thorns, and you could see inside the wound at his side. Jenny thought about sticking her hand inside the wound, as Thomas had done, and what it would feel like to wiggle her fingers around, but that was gross, and she always tried to think about something else real quick.

The eyes of the Jesus were the worst part. Of course they stared right at you, reminding you about the sacrifice that he had made, the pain that he had suffered by taking your sins upon himself. But there was also something else about them. Something a little angry and disappointed and not at all forgiving, like he couldn't wait to get off of his cross and begin Judging people, casting all of the bad people into the Lake of Fire that the Pastor was always going on about. But in those sad, angry eyes there was nothing to reassure you that you were going to be one of the good people. Jenny really didn't like the statue. It made the church even more uncomfortable than it already was, and felt like a thing of darkness in the room, contaminating everyone, making them angrier, meaner, and sadder than they had been when they entered. She tried not to look at the statue, staring out through the window near her pew instead.

The world outside the church always seemed brighter, freer, somehow more alive than what she was experiencing. There was this whole other world that didn't know anything about uncomfortable pews, uptight mothers, smelly crowds, and angry Jesus statues. The sun reached down from the lovely blue sky, and the green grass stretched up to meet it. Birds sang from the trees, and squirrels were busy at play. Cars drove by, carrying laughing families on their way to the beach or to the park or the movies - or anywhere but the awful, boring church. There was something enchanted about the world outside, and every Sunday she sat there, longing to be a part of it.

The congregation had just taken it's seat after another uninspired song, when Jenny first noticed it. She happened to glance outside the window - and there on the street below was a plastic shopping bag from a nearby grocery store. The bag was puffed up by air and being batted around by a summer breeze. The bag looked like it was dancing - a graceful, playful, energetic ballet as the wind would lift it up and then let it fall, spiraling down until it looked like it would hit the ground, then the breeze would catch it and carry the bag along. Jenny smiled as she watched the dance and almost giggled as the bag did a series of sudden loop-de-loops, but caught herself when her mother shot her a quizzical look.

Jenny tried to be good and listen to the Pastor's sermon, tried to ignore the playful prancing bag, but it proved an almost impossible task. Her eyes kept drifting back to the window and to the bag outside, and eventually she gave up the pretense and just watched the delightful play. The bag seemed to notice her attention and redoubled its efforts, performing pirouettes, leaps, charges and wild circles for her pleasure. Carried on the wind, the bag pretended to chase after a bird, turning abruptly just as it was about to overtake the creature.

Jenny thought how wonderful it would be to go outside and play with the bag in the breeze, but then saddened when she realized that her mother would never let her do anything like that. As if drawn by her thoughts, the bag was lifted up and carried to the window, and waited there like an expectant puppy. Jenny smiled widely at such a silly thought, knowing that the bag didn't really want to play with her, that bags weren't capable of such thoughts, and so she whispered, "Go away, you're not real." The bag seemed to recoil for a moment, and then, disheartened, it slunk away from the window, falling listlessly to the ground, where it allowed itself to be carried along down the dirty grey street in front of the church.

She watched the sack in numb disbelief, and then began to worry after it disappeared around the corner. What if something awful happened to it? What if it was run over or picked up by some ruffians and torn apart. That would be awful - and it was all her fault. Whatever had possessed her to say that to the bag?

"Mom, I need to use the bathroom." Jenny said, and her mother, noting the urgency in her voice, agreed. Jenny got up from her pew and slipped out of the chapel as quietly as she was able, slowly closing the large doors behind her. Careful not to make any noise, she crept along until she reached the end of the hallway, and then she began walking really fast, though she didn't run, because running would have drawn attention to her. She passed the restrooms, and then hurried down a long white hallway which had a bunch of slots for pamphlets and church literature for the new members, and then she was pushing open the doors and running outside into the warm summer day. Her heart was beating with the excitement of defying her mother and escaping the church, and also concern for the plastic bag that she had so rudely rebuffed. As she turned the corner that opened onto the church parking lot, she found the bag waiting there for her. She rushed over to pick it up, and just as she leaned down to grab it, a gust of wind lifted the bag up and carried it out of her reach. Jenny giggled - looking around to see if anyone else was there to see her - and then she chased after the bag. The bag danced about impishly, remaining just out of her reach. It led her around the parking lot, spinning and leaping and twirling about, and Jenny kept after it, jumping and reaching and laughing and not caring if anyone was watching her or not. A breeze caught the bag and tossed it far ahead of Jenny, and then, after a series of bunny hops, the bag disappeared behind a large green car.

"You can't escape me that easily, bag!" Jenny crowed as she raced up to the car. The bag was trapped between a wall and the car, and she knew that she had it. "Aha!" she yelled coming around the side of the car, only to stop abruptly, her mouth falling open at what she found there.

Kneeling beside the car was the most stunning woman Jenny had ever seen. Her fey beauty made her seem out of place in the parking lot, crouching beside an old car - she looked like a Fairy Princess from one of Jenny's old books. Waves of silky white hair fell past her rounded shoulders, though she was young and fair and looked only a few years older than Jenny herself. Wide blue eyes like chips of ice stared back at her, and her lips were turned up in a smile that warmed Jenny's heart. A thin diaphanous gown clung to the gentle curves of her body, fastened at her slim waste with a silver belt that bore the image of a face, it's cheeks puffed out, and blowing.

"I'm s-so sorry," Jenny managed, taking a step backwards, "I didn't mean to disturb you."

The woman rose to her slender feet and stepped forward, "Hello, my name is Elissa, daughter of Notus the great South Wind." Her voice sounded like music and seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Who are you?" Jenny, caught in the cool depths of the woman's eyes, stammered out, "My n-name is Jenny. Jenny Daley."

"Ah," Elissa smiled, "that's a very nice name. It's good to meet you Jenny Daley." She extended her hand, and Jenny took it, feeling a warm, tingling power enfold her, and they shook hands. "You know, you're a very special little girl, Jenny. Most people - even girls your own age - would not be able to see me. And yet, here you are, shaking hands with me."

Jenny withdrew and stared at the woman curiously for a moment. She didn't understand what her words meant, and she was feeling a little nauseous, like there were butterflies trapped in her stomach, trying to escape. Jenny took a step back, and said, "Uhm . . . my mom said I shouldn't talk to strangers . . . I'm sorry."

The woman's smile brightened, "We're not strangers. We know each other's names."

"Yeah, but . . . "

"Besides, do you really want to go back into that stuffy old building?"

Jenny didn't. At that moment, that was the last thing she wanted to do, and she admitted as such.

"I thought so. It's such a wonderful day, I don't see why anyone would want to spend it indoors. Out here, gentle Helios smiles down on us, Ge sends up her shoots and branches to wave in the breeze and offer shade, the children of Artemis run free, and we Daughters of the Winds dance. Come, little Jenny Daley, and join us."

The woman raised her arms and slowly danced around Jenny in long, languid steps. Elissa smiled at her, and Jenny smiled back when she felt a breeze trace her cheek and play with the ends of her hair. Round and round Jenny the strange woman danced, and Jenny turned in circles to watch her, until the woman held out a hand and Jenny took it. It felt like Jenny's feet were light as air, and though she didn't know how to dance, the steps came easily to her. In the breezes that blew around them, she heard the faint sound of music, like tinkling bells or harp-strums, faint, almost like it was something she imagined, but it was a tune that she had never heard before, and so incredibly beautiful. She closed her eyes to listen better, and felt herself twirled about by Elissa, as the plastic bag had been twirled by the wind. Elissa released Jenny's hand, and danced away in a flourish of movement, like a Flamenco dancer or one of those beautiful women in the old movies from the 1940s. Jenny watched her for a moment, and then followed her, dancing her own dance - not as elegant, but just as beautiful.

The two danced through the parking-lot of the church, their dances acts of joy and beauty and worship. Jenny found herself swept up in the motion. She felt an incredible sense of power well up from deep within her soul, and she channeled all of that power into her dance, and her dance became the dance that joined all things together. Her steps were sprightly and free, like deer racing through a wood, and her arms waved like bird wings or like tree branches in a storm. Her head rolled back and forth on her neck like the lazy waves crashing onto the shore. And her body became the whole cosmos, throbbing with ancient undying life. She felt all of this and more, and when she opened her eyes to watch Elissa, a look of recognition passed between the two, and Jenny smiled, and knew the meaning behind the smile.

"Jenny, what the hell are you doing out here?" Jenny snapped her head around, and saw her mother staring angrily at her from the steps of the church. "I thought you were going to the bathroom, and you're out here making a fool of yourself! I can't believe this."

"But mom," Jenny cried, straightening, "I met this incredible woman, and . . . " She looked around her, but there was no sign of Elissa.

"Woman? What woman?" Her mother said, grabbing Jenny by the arm and dragging her back towards the church. "Have you been talking to strangers? I told you about that."

Jenny let herself be dragged along, looking frantically around for any sight of the strange woman. But she was gone.

"What were you thinking? We could all see you out here, carrying on like an idiot."

"I'm sorry, mommy," Jenny said, beginning to cry. "I won't do it again."

"You bet you won't! Do you know how embarrassed I am? Why, I ought to -" She opened the church door, and shoved her daughter inside.

As she walked through the door, Jenny looked back and saw the beautiful woman standing there, smiling and waving at her. As the door closed, she heard Elissa say, "I'll always be with you." And Jenny stopped crying and began to smile, for she knew that that was true.