Kane woke one morning to a strange sensation in the air. The winds were stirring, sweeping through the trees and carrying the scent of distant lands. The sun had yet to rise, and the sky was still a deep shade of indigo, but the winds whispered in a way that felt different.
There was something about it, something in the way the air shifted, that made Kane pause. The world felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to change.
He stepped outside, feeling the cool breeze on his skin, his body tingling with the first touch of the wind. It was a new season. The trees were swaying, their branches shaking loose the remnants of the rain, and the ground beneath his feet was damp with the promise of new life.
His father was already up, chopping wood with his usual steady rhythm. The sound of the axe hitting the wood seemed to echo through the morning silence, a steady, almost comforting beat. But there was a tension in the air today, something that Kane couldn't quite place. The wind seemed to carry it, twisting the leaves, rustling the grass, as if whispering secrets that only the earth could understand.
"Feeling the wind, Kane?" Dela's voice broke the silence, his eyes glancing at the boy as he worked.
Kane nodded slowly, stepping closer to the edge of the yard. "It feels... different today," he said.
His father paused, the axe resting on his shoulder. "The wind changes everything, son. It moves through the world, sweeping away the old and bringing in the new. But you know, it never asks permission. It just comes."
Kane watched the trees bend and sway in the wind's embrace. There was something freeing about it, something untamed and wild. The way the trees swayed in response to the wind, not fighting it but yielding to its force, made him wonder about his own life. What if he, too, could yield to the winds of change instead of resisting them?
"You're growing, Kane," Dela continued, his voice steady but soft. "Just like the trees. There are times when the wind will push you, and you won't understand why. But you can't stop it. You can only bend with it, and let it shape you into something stronger."
Kane's mind raced. He had always been uncomfortable with change, with the idea of things being different. He liked the way things were, the familiar rhythms of his life, the quiet mornings, the steady flow of the seasons. But now, with the winds swirling around him, he could feel something else stirring inside—a desire to grow, to bend with the wind instead of against it.
As the days passed, the winds didn't stop. They picked up, swirling through the yard and rustling the leaves in the trees. Kane spent more time outside, standing at the edge of the yard, watching the way the trees moved, watching the way the world seemed to bend and shift under the pressure of the winds.
And he began to feel something change inside of him.
It wasn't a loud change. It wasn't something that happened all at once, but it was there, like the shifting of the earth beneath the surface. Slowly, Kane began to understand the winds. He realized that they didn't come to destroy—they came to transform. The wind didn't pick and choose who it affected. It touched everything, and everything changed because of it.
His mother noticed the change, too. One evening, as Kane sat by the window, watching the last rays of the sun fade into the horizon, she came up beside him. Her hands were still soft from the day's work, but there was a warmth in her gaze as she looked at him.
"You've been quiet, Kane," she said, her voice gentle. "What's on your mind?"
Kane hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the windowsill as he thought. "The wind," he said softly. "It feels like it's pushing me toward something I don't understand. Like everything's changing, and I'm not sure if I'm ready."
Abira smiled, her eyes filled with understanding. "The wind doesn't ask if we're ready. It just moves. But remember, Kane, change is like the wind—it's not always easy, but it's always part of growing."
Kane thought about her words long after she left him there by the window, the cool breeze still stirring outside. The wind had come, and it had changed the way he saw the world. It had forced him to bend, to yield, to understand that life would not wait for him to be ready. He would have to change with it, even when it felt uncertain, even when it seemed too difficult.
The winds were calling him to grow, to become something new. And maybe, just maybe, he was ready to let them guide him.
Later that evening, when the wind had settled into a calm whisper, Kane stepped outside once more. He looked at the trees again, watching them as they stood tall in the breeze, their leaves fluttering like hands reaching toward the sky.
He stood still, feeling the wind brush against his skin. For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel afraid. He felt the pull of something greater than himself, something that was always moving, always changing. The world was shifting around him, but for once, Kane wasn't resisting. He was simply standing, waiting, and growing—just like the trees.