kwiat
Im Stile alter Meister
As a girl she sat by the window and looked out at the grand world below, wondering when her momma would ever allow her go outside and play. The yelps and shouts of other children drew her imagination the way the moon draws the tides. Every day was a week long and she just knew all the fun in the world would be gone by the time she got outside.
Soon there came a time when she only glanced out the window as she hurried to meet her friends outside. Even though the days were long, they were never long enough. She always had to return home before she wanted. She could sometimes glimpse the moon outside her window as she slid into sleep, eager for the morning to come.
Before long she would stand near the window, just out of sight, not wanting to be seen waiting for her beau to arrive. Different boys over the years, some better than others and some wonderfully worse. But she was always at the window waiting, waiting, hidden and waiting.
To her surprise, she found herself all too soon looking out the window watching her own children play, shouting and yelping, skinning their knees. She worried and was happy, each in its turn, and she wondered at the fact that her own mother had once been this old and this young when looking out the window. Shortly the moon would rise and she’d tuck her children in bed and sit by the window, looking out on the silvery street, remembering.
Now she listens out the window, her eyes no longer what they once were. The warmth of the sun feels good on her old bones. Outside the children yelp and shout. And the days only last a moment.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
