It’s been awhile That we drove for a mile, The sun shining bright And the full moon high. Do you remember me pointing out to the sky? As you rode through the night Letting me fly.
It’s been awhile Since we danced to a song, Barefeet in the dark, In the shadows we belonged. Don’t you have memories Of stolen moments as these? Where the song played right Along with the night.
Time heals, but does it really Fix the broken or soothe over only; Timeless, they say, some stories are Could ours have been too, If the end wasn’t near? Oh but, how would I know, Since the end is here. Oh but, what would I know, Now that the end is here.
I discovered windows one afternoon and after that, nothing was ever the same. – Anne Spollen, The Shape of Water.
The one spot in the house where you’ll always find me.
The site of every greeting and farewell I’ve been a part of. Strangers forego the bell and come straight to my window, friends forget the doors and start conversations right here. From the exuberant waves to some who just turned the corner into our lane to subtle glances exchanged with those uncertain, I’ve probably spent ninety percent of my life at home by these windows. Watching, breathing, questioning, welcoming – and at necessary times, ignoring – the world outside. While, more often than not, inviting the assumption that I study the entire time I’m sat here. Not completely untrue if said study involves reading, writing, creating, thinking, planning, conversing, being.
Even way back, living for some years as a paying guest in a new city, I picked the bed by the window to ensure that the first thing to grace me in the mornings is the brilliant green canopy of leaves on the tall tree outside that gently filtered the sunlight to nudge my sleepy eyes.
Why am I always looking at life through a window? I don’t know.
But if I ever write a piece on me, the apt title shall simply be “The Girl by the Window”.
#sigh #blessedlife
Do you also love to look at life through a window?
The Soul-searcher & Time-traveller 