Driving along with Dad, on our way home from work, I can see inside the windows of the houses that we pass. Of course some homes are still dark, the occupants still at work, or on vacation, or shopping at the Mall. When we finally arrive at our destination the house will be well lit, the occupants will be preparing for our arrival with dinner, stories of their activities during the day, and all the drama that involves.
But as we pass the windows on our way home, I wonder about these families. The thoughts of my 12 year-old self are simple. Are the children happy? Are the moms good ones, do the dads work and take care of them like Dad does for us? What do they eat? I catch glimpses of their lamps and wall hangings and imagine what the inside of the house looks like, feels like, smells like. If we were to walk in right now would there be smells of onions and peppers cooking, or would it smell like oatmeal raisin cookies?
When I'm older and on my own driving home from the office, out of the corners of my eyes I see the light from the windows as I pass and I am angry. Angry that there are people already home from work and preparing the nightly meal, children are working on their homework already while I still must pick up my children from their caretaker, drive on home to prepare dinner in a cold house that will probably not smell of oatmeal raisin cookies.
Now I sit at my window and my 63 year-old self wonders and ponders life from this side of that beautiful pane of glass. It's at the back of the house and not on a busy street so nobody goes by wondering about us. I see the birds and think about life, I see trees and ponder thoughts about how we humans are all so connected with everything in the Universe, I see the men playing golf and feel the depth of the love that I have for my husband and that he has for me. I answer the phone at my window greeting my friends and family feeling the warmth of the sun on my face from my window.
So I begin writing of the thoughts At My Window.
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