Whispers in the Wind

It had been a long day.

I kept checking my phone — not really sure what I was waiting for. A message? A call? Some kind of sign? I just wanted to hear something... anything. But I couldn’t quite figure out what.

Working in a creative field can be both exhilarating and exhausting. Today, it leaned heavily toward the latter. I’d poured 48 hours of heart and soul into a new pitch for a brand that had recently landed in our office — and just like that, it was all discarded. I kept turning pages and screens, pointing out helplessly for all that I wanted them to see, but somehow all my pleas went unanswered. Finally, I gave up.

Home wasn’t much of a sanctuary either. My roommate had decided to move in with her partner, which meant the full weight of the rent would soon fall on me — unless I found someone to fill her space. But at 33, I wasn’t exactly eager to go hunting for a new roommate. Sadly, Tinder and Bumble still don’t offer a “roommate only” option. If they did, I might’ve finally had a reason to join.

I checked my phone again. Still nothing.

Why was this making me so anxious? Why did I want someone — anyone — to reach out? And even if they did... what was I hoping they’d say? That my editor had changed her mind, seen the brilliance in my pitch, and decided to hand me her office keys in a grand gesture of apology? No, of course not. She had always been kind to me. Always nudging me in the right direction, helping me untangle thoughts and turn them into stories.

Did I want my roommate to call, confess that this move was too hard, and tell me she’d broken up with her boyfriend to stay? Not really. I wanted space. I’d never lived alone, and part of me was curious to see who I was when no one else was around.

Even my Uber driver kept cancelling, which somehow felt poetic. So I decided to walk to the nearest café for coffee, hoping the air might clear my head.

With my laptop in one hand and my bag slung over the other, I began counting steps. Something mindless. I was on step number 347 when a little girl on a bicycle zoomed past me. She left behind a trail of wind and laughter — a fleeting scent of innocence.

For the first time all day, I smiled.

Suddenly, the rest of the steps didn’t matter. I drifted into a quiet dialogue with the wind — whispers, not words. I confessed I was tired. That I didn’t know where life was heading. That I missed my mom. I imagined calling her, asking if she’d be my new roommate. We fight a lot, sure. But I missed her. I imagined secretly making a Bumble profile, just to swipe with no real purpose. Just to feel something different.

And in that wind, I felt something shift — like it whispered back:“Keep going. You’ve still got 500 steps to go. I’m here. I’ll carry your worries for now. When you arrive, you’ll feel lighter. And tomorrow, you’ll wake up with new thoughts. Different ones. But for today, I’ve got you.”

I didn’t check my phone again until an hour later, when the uber driver called to ask for my location. And just like that, the world started moving again.