Winds of Change - Susan

 I reworked this story of Fila based on a Reedsy prompt which suggested beginning a story with the sensation of a breeze brushing against a character's skin. That led to more images of wind. Fun exercise to rewrite to fit a prompt, instead of starting with the prompt.

Fila stood beside her stepfather’s Model A at the side of the hard-packed dirt road running from Dallas all the way to Fort Worth. The wind blowing in from West Texas stirred up fine dust and grit and warned of a coming storm. Looking up at an ominous sky, loose tendrils of hair escaped her bun, and she wished she had worn a hat. “Never mind,” she thought, “I won’t be here long.” She needed to get this over with.

In her hands Fila gripped a surveyor’s map with property specifications for the 26 acres spread out in front of her. Pushing her hair off her face, she gazed out at the property her husband was determined to buy. Fila had learned over the years that George’s ideas almost never panned out, and Fila was opposed to leaving McKinney and her mother’s family for the uncertainty of Dallas. However, George was convinced the construction in a city booming with oil and gas money would mean more work for him and more money to educate their four boys.

Although she remained unconvinced, Fila knew that George was one to dig in his heels when challenged, and her arguments only increased his determination to move the family yet again. To keep the peace and break his stony silence, she agreed to drive a borrowed car the 30 miles from Plano to look over the property. Fear of more debt kept her up at night, and here was George, intent on adding more debt to what they still owed her stepfather. They never seemed to be able to get ahead, always taking two steps back for every step forward. “When will it end?” she wondered.

Fila pushed aside doubt as took in what she could see of the 26 acres. Some of the land had been worked recently; the detritus of a past cotton crop swirled in the wind, little whirlwinds whipping across the ground. A small grove of pecan trees bending slightly in the west wind bordered a field to the east where a donkey stood motionless by a split rail fence, his companion bird dog asleep beside him in spite of the wind and the dust. Fila smiled at the sight and wondered if the dog and donkey came with the property.

Through the dust, she took in the boundaries of the fields and calculated that the spread could support a few head of livestock and a sizable vegetable garden. She imagined a summer trade where the boys could sell fresh vegetables and shelled pecans to the travelers who were sure to come when the proposed viaduct across the Trinity River was built.

With a keen sense of value and potential, Fila turned her eyes to the barn and the farmhouse, both large, well built, and, from where she stood, in good shape. The house faced north, a red brick, two-story, with a covered porch entrance and windows across the front. Given a choice, Fila would prefer a south-facing home with its back to the north winds that were bound to come in winter, but she was glad for the mature live oak tree that stood not far from a stone wall separating the yard from the field to the west of the house.

Sighing, she said to the god of winds, who may or may not have been listening, “This will do. This will have to do.”

Turning back to the car, and clutching the map to her chest, she leaned into the wind, glad to put this visit behind her. She took one last look, obscured now by rain drops as big as dimes. She knew she must resign herself to the move, must give in to the winds of change. Yet, in her heart she feared that this was an ill wind, solving nothing.

 

[Word count 632]