Cold breeze

I always felt as though the day that I die would be a cold windy day. When I was young I used to be extremely afraid of days that were sunny but with a strong wind because it was a reminder for me that after the warmest day there would only be colder days until finally that day when it was too cold to survive. 

So for the most part whenever that wind came I would look to the sky and beg for this to not be the coldest day. And that would work for most of the summer, but then the autumn would follow and the days would get even colder, and I thought to myself surely I have now come to the end of my life. 

So what would I be left with? At first nothing but fear. But then just as the overbearing inevitability of my demise loomed ever closer I would do to myself there's nothing left to do but to reflect. So I would, I would think about the warmer days - really hot days that we're almost so unbearable but I wish for the end. And more than that I would have a memory of that one cool breeze on the hottest day that would satisfy me in a way I don't think it's satisfied anyone else. Because not only did it cool my charring in under the hot sun, but it would be the one breeze that would make me feel as though God was touching me to sustain my existence, rather than as a reminder but he would take it away.

I don't know when I got over this fear exactly, to be honest I don't know if I got over this fear exactly. What I feel cold breeze right now, well, to be honest I'm so distracted with whatever is blowing away, whatever I need to hold on to, but I just don't have time to remember how afraid I am. I feel the breeze I still find myself taking the moment true remind myself but everything's okay or that it will be. And if I'm not doing alright I'm still receding into a pensive state where I'm not getting in touch with nature so much as I am getting in touch with my separation from nature.