through the window


via pinterest
What lies on the other side of the window?

Anything can be there, waiting to be discovered. We speak of miracles in awed voices and hushed tones— people coming back from the dead, having a second life, another chance.

(Or more excitedly— discovering a new color, landing men on Mars...)

This moment is frozen into time, forever; while it’s saved digitally, it’s also in the little film canister plastered with princess stickers from her pudgy hands, and the grainy, black-and-white printout is neatly tucked into a folder. We all remember things somehow— whether it be printouts, postcards, or things merely saved in our memories. I like to back things up.

As of now, I can simply turn around and gaze onto the clean tar road, the green trees, and cars parked down the street.

(We can tell the future too, the trees will soon morph into mixed hues of red, yellow, and orange. Days will grow shorter and it’ll soon be too cold to go outside in shorts and a t-shirt.)

We see our world from our side of the window— we speak of it that way. We see it from our perspective. We don’t break through, truly “color outside the lines.”

Because it’s a risk: strapping the seatbelt around you as you hear the countdown: 10…9…8…7…
… And not losing hope. Taking the first step down, not knowing what will actually happen. 

Or for others, it’s about rolling out of the hospital bed and taking those two shaky, wobbly steps.

Who will make a difference?

It probably won’t be me. I’ll admit it: I’m perfectly happy in my own room, writing, and losing time gazing at the sky and trees.

I believe that I can… walk? think? fly? make that difference? take that step?


  1. wonderful.....all at once..... I love it! =) <3


go on, make my day. ❤