My windmill brings me much peace. It spins and spins and I watch it so. There are days when it is fast and days when it is slow. There are days yet where its blades are helped along by a team of little gremlins wearing matching jerseys. You have to squint to see them but they’re there. Squinting’s about all I do since the state broke both my hands. They don’t want me making any more drawings of their high-power officials. They know I draw with the right hand but they broke the left as well as they figured I was keen on learning to write with both should the need arise.
So now I just sit and watch the windmill. Spin and spin.
And I figure if I watch long enough I will transported back through time to when I first learned what a windmill was and learned its ways. I learned that I had a windmill in my yard and not a giant prehistoric beast with long legs and triple necks that seemed always to work itself up into a fury.
I learned that most of our soldiers died so that our windmills could keep spinning. I also learned that to even mention soldiers dying is a deep a crime as any and that the state would have your hands broken for such a trespass.
I also learned to hold my mints in my mouth for as many rotations of that windmill as possible. And to count them each and not cheat in my counting. Eventually if you eat too many mints your back muscles curve and turn against you as humankind was never meant to go near the mint tree let alone grind its children up into candies.
I learn a lot just sitting and watching that windmill spin. Next week I expect it’ll teach me calculus.