I got hit in the face by a leaf yesterday. It was mildly humiliating.
I was walking out of the side doors. You know, the ones that have the wall cozied up against your right side when you walk out to the parking lot. The wind was gusting lustily, and had half a mind to knock you on your back, or possibly blow you off out of sight towards the horizon line. The result of this indecision was a blustery cold cyclone that nipped at your toes and tore cruelly against any flesh exposed. That in itself was not pleasant, but then the leaf came.
Leaves, normally blithely attached to their respective trees, had suddenly and irrationally decided to abruptly drop to the ground and turn to projectiles as they do every fall. And, like every other fall season, I was left shivering in the cold as nature moved on aloofly indifferent to my protests that it was far too soon to don sweaters. In my futile attempts to stall the inevitable nuisance of coats, and since the car was very close, I was grossly unprepared for the zephyr that hurled itself frenziedly at the alcove I was trespassing.
Now you must understand, in order to grasp this next phenomenon, that the building I was scurrying beside was in the shape of an L. Glass doors at my back, an imposing brick wall to my right, and unforgiving cold concrete beneath my feet. This left my whole left flank exposed to the bitter wind.
Rushing up in a mad passion, the wind flung itself excitedly against the barrier that the brick provided. The bricks, obviously disgruntled by this frivolity, pushed mightily back against the wind. Laughing madly, the wind dove down, passing me again in yet another blast of frigid air. Meeting the ground headfirst, the wind tired of this game and drifted lazily forward, propelling me softly towards my destination.
This sounds all very well and good. However. When combined with burst after burst of gusts, it creates quite a cyclone. Me, buffeted pitifully in the center of the void, struggled to get past the invisible confines of the L shaped niche, which I was quickly coming to resent. Leaves, normally dancing and skittering dolefully against the concrete, now became airborne in a strange frolic that looked one-half tango and one-half conga, balefully participating in the absurd frenzy.
A leaf hit me in the eye.
You wouldn’t think they’d create such a hazard with their ridged sides and half-crunched bodies. But no, they hurt. A LOT.
So, blinking furiously, I retreated into the safety of my car. I shucked my backpack off, peeved.
“What happened?” Asked my mother.
“I got hit by a leaf,” I replied.
So here I sit, traumatized. While the leaves spin on, lazily impervious to my strange new fear of wind.