Hellerrrr (as Madea would say).
Windows have been in the news recently, have you noticed?
Well, okay, if you haven’t, no problem. It wasn’t good news. Chuck aside the bad stuff, yeah, today should feel like that Lionel Richie song, the one that plays on our radio to this day…easy like Sunday morning.
Back to windows, but not the news. Going through my writing, I’ve noticed I mention windows often. This got me thinking.
As a child, travelling from countryside to town and back, in my lovely native land, I would notice villagers sitting at their windows gazing out. Their homes were surrounded by rice fields, a coconut tree or two in the front yard.
As a teen, I began to think that these window-people were bored and had nothing better to do.
Who was I to judge?
Why would I assume that they weren’t imagining what I myself would picture in my mind…stories of the people traversing along - their lives and love, their hope and loss? Why did I assume that windows wouldn’t reveal poetry for them too, in the fronds of the coconut trees swinging lightly in the breeze; that they couldn’t hear the song of the rain also, that they couldn’t be choreographing dances like the swirling of the near-invisible motes in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the western window?
Today, remembering these windows-gazers I realise how, in some ways, I am like them. Give me a window that opens on to a busy street and you can bet your bottom dollar that I too will stare at people passing by, at the little plays that unfold out there. Live theatre, free of cost. Humanity for all the world to see.
I realise too that windows connect us to our community. If you go for walks along the streets of my lovely native land, you will spot, at some point, an adult holding a toddler securely, looking through the window. If you wave, they will cheerfully wave back. You can stop and gyaff…chat! The adult will chat with you (as long as you’re respectful and not invasive. Mildly curious is fine).
Of course, people being people, this connecting ain’t always cool…y’know, it ain’t always nice and friendly. It can be toxic. Like that morning Auntie M., mum’s cousin, told me about, and I almost fell over laughing. (Auntie M. said it was not funny, and I shouldn’t laugh.) One neighbour was cussing out another neighbour. I gather, from Auntie M.’s descriptions that the cussing been so bad, the place start to smell real renk!
Honestly though? I’ve only once witnessed a stinky sort of drama whilst visiting Auntie M. (a story for another day). All other times, I’ve mostly heard pigeons cooing, a horse down the street whinnying. You can stick your head out through the window near the table and watch street cricket or women buying vegetables from the lady with the handcart.
Oh! The sky…don’t forget the sky. It follows you wherever you go, from living room to loo. One of my favourite windows is in the bathroom of our old family home.
Ooh, speakin’ o’ birdies, time for me to fly now, m’ dear, I got a li’l sky-gazing I want to do.
I hope the view through your window lifts your spirit every day. I hope this little email fills you with big cheer. Have a wonderful two weeks until the next Sunday.
With love, neena.