The scar

At home, my lips were still smacking at thoughts of penang curry flowing across my taste buds as I reached for soap to wash my hands after a grimy ride on the Boston T. Suddenly, the soap stung my hands, and I looked down to find a bloody scar on my thenar eminence, also known as the palm. My forehead wrinkled in thought as I tried to recall what had caused this scar. Was it a bronchoscopy later in the day? And then I remembered what it was.

I got home relatively early today, and my husband and I planned a trip to one of our favorite restaurants in Boston, My Thai Vegan Cafe, located in Chinatown. We stepped outside from our apartment, and I had noticed immediately that the temperature had dropped at least 10 degrees from when I had arrived home only an hour and half ago. The wind was picking up, and there were patches of ice on the concrete and tar on the streets and sidewalks.

We made it to Kenmore station, slipping and sliding along the way. We got off at Boylston, and on Boylston street, it was colder and windier. Some on the streets were prepared for the drop in temperature with puffy Down jackets. Others were caught off guard in lighter jackets and no hat.

As we walked toward the restaurant, the wind picked up even more, and we found ourselves caught in a rapid, swift wind that pushed us forward, involuntarily causing us to pick up our speed walking. But it never let down. Suddenly, I found myself running across the street, trying to stop, but my legs were somehow being carried by the wind. I tried to stop but I couldn't stop running across the street. My husband grabbed my arm and ran with me, trying to stop my momentum.

I was heading for a white car parked in front of the restauarant. The car was covered in small bits of iced snow. I realized I was going to slam into the car as the wind never let down. I hope I wouldn't fall on to the ground.

I reached the car and reached foward with my hands to break the collison. I didn't end up falling on the street, and almost instantaneously, the wind dissipated as suddenly as it came. I looked up to my husband, who started laughing at the whole situation. I too, burst out laughing. I ran across the street, not of my own will, because of the Boston wind. And I couldn't stop. And it scarred me.