What a view

I remember riding through the city looking up at the apartment skyscrapers and wondering what each life behind those windows must be like. We’re they happy, abused, too rich, too poor? My life has been a series of looking out windows. In cars, traveling where ever my mothers spirit took us, I saw amazing beauty. I was always grateful for that. I’ve looked out as a child witnessing the neighbor brutally beat his mother for what seemed like an eternity. No one came to help her even after pleading with my stepfather to DO SOMETHING. I’ve seen tornadoes decimate adjacent houses followed by rainbows. I’ve stared at friends saying LETS GO and climbing out those windows for a night of freedom. I remember staring out at the palm trees willing myself to be anywhere but on the bedroom floor with him. The way the Christmas lights looked through fogged windows gleaming were my favorite. An airplane window once showed me the gods beauty. Now, I see horses in a pasture surrounded by mountains as my kids jump on the trampoline, humming bird feeders next to cascading fuchsia frame the scene. I wonder what the next window will bring and I pray the windows of my children view will never be as dark.