When I was younger, I used to listen to the crisp sound of the wind. It stroked through my hair, almost like a bird that ruffled its feathers. Those birds had the freedom of the great unknown, with the wind constantly lifting their quills. Sometimes a feather would break loose, slowly drifting down to the surface. That one feather can represent a wide variety of things as it lightly taps the solid ground. The bird would think nothing of a single feather coming unbound, if it did, it would constantly worry about all its feathers breaking loose. If all a bird’s feathers break loose, that is a sign of death,…

The memories came flooding back like a tidal wave inside his brain. Every splash was another moment in 1936. It all started when a tall looking man with a mustache walked in on him and his wife, Eleanor. George remembered every little detail of that muscular man at his doorstep.  “I am looking for George Waterdale.” said the man in a gruff voice. At that moment, all of the safe moments with his wife were gone. Sitting in the rocking chair by the fireplace, baking cookies on special occasions, gone. George looked at Eleanor with a worried expression on his face. Eleanor took George’s hand and very slowly, they walked…