Ducky has been with us for one week, one day, one hour, and ten minutes. Right now, Daddy is walking him and The Dog. In just a short week, I had forgotten quiet. My ears are scanning the empty apartment, looking for something to listen to.

The only thing I can hear is the unfamiliar West Wind. Today the wind is bigger than the City of Angels. I’m lost, and a little frightened by it. I feel caught in a parachute, tossed about, even behind the safety of my window. This wind is a completely different beast than the East Winds that have comforted me throughout my life.

The East Winds blew around me, and over me, like a warm towel left out in sunlight. A sweet respite after a cold swim. The West Winds blow through me, and unsettle me. I feel unbalanced because I usually find comfort in wind.

I fed him every hour this morning before dawn, we dozed on the couch as the sun rose, and then we snuggled up with Daddy for a couple of hours. I pulled the baby close as the wind blew and told him not to be afraid, told myself not be afraid. We’re safe now, the three of us; our family snuggled up in bed.

It occurred to me that the West Winds will be as familiar to him as they are foreign to me. It makes me sad, not to share the East Winds with our son, save for a few visits to Grandpa’s house. Our life is here now. His life begins here, in this big city, with these cold winds and rare moments of quiet.