Blowin’ in the Wind
Against the wind
We were runnin’ against the wind
We were young and strong, we were runnin’ against the wind
— (Bob Seeger and The Silver Bullet Band)
Recently, my mother and I were trying to figure out how to get my step-father to the hospital for his vaccine. He’s 93. He’s frail and has COPD. The wind chill is, currently, negative twenty-five degrees.
My parent’s building is encompassed by a wind tunnel on the corner of a street. Even when it is not windy anywhere else in the city, there’s a breeze there. I think it’s haunted. Because it’s a university neighborhood, chock-full of Nobel Prizes, I think, that some disgruntled scientist, spun up some mad science around their building.
Maybe, some woman who lived in that building did him wrong. Maybe, he had a terrible childhood in that place. There’s something going on in that corner, and the wind doesn't let you forget it. Maybe one day the science experiment curse will expire and that corner will become still.
But not before Sunday. Sunday is the day that we take my stepfather to get his much-needed vaccine.
My mother and I take turns being nervous about the logistics of getting him there. I’m the youngest of three sisters. My older sisters, twins, took turns being the oldest. I was the baby, who got bossed, but never the one who took the reins. In the recent past, my physical proximity to my mother has changed that. My sisters moved across the country.
Now, only half an hour from mom, I’m the go-to kid. Secretly, well only as secret as a blog can be, I think it bothers my sisters that our roles have changed. Mom and I haven’t been a functioning team for very long. We’re still adjusting. I think that a part of us expects one of my sisters will swoop in and take over. But, the pandemic has prevented it, and so our relationship continues to evolve.
“It’s so windy by your house,” I say.
“I know,” she says. “But we’ve got this.”
“We do,” I said. “Whatever happens, we’ll work it out.”