With every 'woosh,' each blade left behind,
My admiration for the giant fan grew and grew...
Until the windmill, itself felt as big as the earth.
I held her hand and inched towards big, menacing slabs of steel swishing past us.

Her grip tightened around my wrist as well.
I could tell she was embarrassed to admit that this was a terrible detour.

My dad stood by our Santro, like a distant observer. A gentle guide.

I have a million memories, so many that I can just pick and play and replay it in my head, whenever I want to.

~

In reality, she's gone now, so has the menacing wind monster and so has the gentle, young man.

But in my reality, they'll always live.