The thing I liked best about the house that Jim and
I built was the windows. Looking out a window is a way to connect with the
world outside while being all comfy inside.
I often sat in my living room and looked out the
patio windows to the woods behind our house. I remember seeing birds and
squirrels in the summer and on cold winter days.
From the kitchen, I could look across the yard and
see the little house next door where my mother-in-law lived. Deer often came
into the yard to browse for fruit on the ground.
Now, as I remember those days, I realize that I was
blessed to have lived during that special time. Families didn’t just get
together for holidays, weddings, and funerals. Life was filled with impromptu
jam sessions or feasts, anytime, on any ordinary day.
A few days ago, I saw a photo of Uncle Johnny on
Facebook. Immediately, I thought of the pitch games that we played at
Virginia’s kitchen table. Uncle Johnny and I were partners trying to beat Jim
and Aunt Nita. They were the wild and crazy bidders who would bid on each
other’s hands.
Now that I think about it, I wonder whether they
were not so much clairvoyant as they might have had a stealthy method of
signaling each other. Either that, or playing cards was their superpower.
I lived alone in our house for fourteen years.
During that time, I saw our yard go from being the gathering place for family
to a quiet, lonely space. I would look at the empty patio and imagine the time
when Jim, Billy, and his dad would play music there. Virginia would cook a big
dinner and everyone would gather around in lawn chairs at the picnic table with
plates of food. The coffee pot was on all the time.
I sit here today in the house that Harold built. We
have huge windows in the kitchen on the west side, sunroom windows, a bay
window, and windows in every room. I can see the sunrise in the office and
watch glorious sunsets from the kitchen or sunroom windows.
Now, I’m looking out the office window to the
first ground-covering snow of the year. I see our fence and an abandoned bird
nest in the Japanese Maple tree. The snow continues to fall, but with some
thawing, I hope I’m only housebound for one day.
The house is quiet except for the slight hum of
the Synology and the blowing of the heat through the floor vents. I’ve never
been one to turn on the TV or radio for background noise.
In the stillness, I struggle with thoughts of my
changing world. I think of the song, “I Am Not Okay.” We all feel the weight of
life’s burdens from time-to-time. Conversely, we all experience joy and times
when all seems right with the world.
The main message from the song is not the part
about not being okay, although that is what we latch onto in times of sorrow.
The secret message is that even though “I’m not okay, everything is going to be
all right.”
All we have to do is look through a window, feel
the power of positivity, and muster the courage to trust in a Greater Power. Solace
comes with the knowledge that everything will be all right someday.
Copyright
© November by L.S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
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