Thank you, Wind.

"I hate that you don't love yourself," I whisper to the Wind. "You're beautiful."

"But I'm not," It whispers against my skin and plays with my hair.

"Why do you say that?" I'm appalled at the belittling attitude of itself; as I believe Wind to be very amazing. Sun was slowly falling asleep and its' beautiful colors were fading.

"Because I am not seen, young one. You at least are known and viewed with feelings. I only cause agitation and messy hair days when I am around. No one likes me." It sighs, and the trees shake. Leaves fall to the ground and skate away.

"That's not true; I like you." I'm a little hurt, are my feelings not enough? I thought of us as friends.

"Thank you, I need that. . . But, its just, I want to be liked more. I want people to smile when they feel me, and not just when Sun is here. I want to be loved more. To be craved every morning and every night. To be told I am beautiful and amazing when I don't feel like I am. I only want to be loved as much as I love everyone else." I feel the mist from the sprinklers carry to me and I realize how upset Wind is.

"But Wind, why must you need that?" I ask, "You shouldn't care what everyone else has to say about you, only what you believe. And you love yourself! Love who you are and what makes you special. You are just as special and as beautiful as everyone else!" I smile into the Wind and feel it grazing my cheeks softly.

"Then tell me child, " It speaks softly, "Why do you care so much about what others say? You are far much greater than they are and more joy to be with. Why do you care so much?"

The question startles me, and I realize why Wind has said this. "Wind . . . would you miss me?" I ask as tears flood my eyes. They streak down my face and Wind wipes them off my cheeks.

"Yes, very much, my dear." The breeze picks up against my body, the pressure urging my body away. "Please step back." The pain is obvious in its voice. More tears are forming, one after another, as I take a step back from the ledge. And then another one. My toes are no longer over the edge and the leaves stop stirring.

"Thank you," It whispers one more time, against my wet cheeks. Sun and Wind say goodbye as Moon says hello.