Wind Chimes

When I was a kid, walking to the public library, there was one house just down the street from us that had wind chimes hanging in their front balcony. I always looked forward to walking by that house.

Such a soothing sound—almost like birdsong or the chirp of a cricket—a simple object fashioned by human hands to capture the wild, gentle, calming, quickening sound of the wind.

I’ve been a grown up for quite some time now. And I have loved wind chimes for that entire period. For the past four years I’ve even lived in an apartment with a balcony. Wind chimes are not very expensive. And yet, I never bought them for myself. I never even thought to put them on my Christmas list.

Why settle on disappointment? Why forget the things that make us smile? Why resign ourselves to less than our hearts had secretly hoped to enjoy? Why let dreams fade and longings die away?

Fear will do that. It comes from being hurt. Yes, we all know what that’s like. But sometimes the resignation becomes a habit. Even after the wounds have healed and the fear subsided, still, the heart forgets. Like a bewildered flower, forgetting to strain toward the sunlight.

But I heard wind chimes the other day.

And I remembered.