I miss our windows in Germany.
The solid panes of glass that opened like barn doors. The way the breeze flowed through the house, cooling it off without needing central air. This southern girl was amazed.
The view stretched for miles… That winding narrow road followed the hills and disappeared somewhere through the trees; if you drove the twists and turns just right you’d find a tiny little village and a castle.
Austin’s fascination with the weather started there. We’d pull chairs up to the windows when the sky grew dark, and we’d watch the clouds roll in, and if we watched long enough, the storm would tumble right on through…
If ever an occasion called for fireworks, we’d prop right up and look down on them from our fourth floor view. Germans enjoy a good celebration.
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| the view from here, my office in alabama |
I stare out the windows here at work, and while the glass is big… Not much else compares. The windows don’t open. There’s a hill blocking my view of anything more than highway and a hospital… The sky is big and beautiful and there’s freedom in that, until my eyes focus on the reflection of the flourescent lights in the ceiling.
I watch an airplane and it’s trail climb higher and higher, until the plane is out of sight and the trail fades away…
Oh, to be on that plane… I know where I’d go…