The Window

October 14, 2019

Greetings from beyond the pane,

Howard sat in his chair, his thumb in the pages of a book, keeping his place as he thought his way through the words and images the book had given him.  He was smiling, a content man, but in his eyes there were questions.  In this moment, one that was as simple as eternity, he wondered.  No one he knew wondered.

The room was cozy, not a word that Howard would have used, but he felt it, nonetheless.  On this wall there was a fireplace, where his favorite chair was, and a place for his book and his favorite cup, which held his coffee, exactly as he liked it.  Howard had few desires, and those were met easily.

On that wall there was two windows and a door.  Howard walked past that wall every day for as long as he remembered and each time he looked and was curious and amazed.  Not because of the view, the view out of any of his windows was inspirational enough; some days mountain peaks, other days the ocean crashing on the shore of green cliffs. 

That wall and those two windows held another treasure. The first window was a rectangle of glass, divided by mullions into twelve smaller panes.  He often leaned on the sill, put his hand on the small lock that kept the window secure, but was never latched.  If he wanted, and sometimes he did, he could raise it easily and feel the world on the other side.

The other window was low on the wall, so low that Howard would have to sit on the floor to look comfortably out of it.  If he wanted, and sometimes he did, he would unlatch the lower window just to feel the breeze across his legs, hear the noises of the living going on.

Howard might be walking past that wall and notice people walking by on the other side of the glass.  He would sometimes stand at the window and watch them.  He would try to imagine why they were happy, or why they were angry or sad.  Sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, he would see them pause, as if they heard him wondering, or saw a glimpse of him.  Yesterday, or perhaps ten years ago, he saw a woman stop and look directly into his window, as if she could see him.  She smiled slightly, raised her hand to the glass and then pulled back, instead hooked her hair behind her ear.  And she winked.

This delighted Howard to no end.  He knew that the windows were there for him, mostly, but once in a while, in just the right moment, they were also for the people on the other side. 

The lower window was his favorite.  It was there he saw the little children and the dogs, and they would see him.  He would sit in front of the window and wait and before long a dog would come by.  The dog would always, always, stop at the window and put his ears back and wag his tail.  The dog would press his nose against the glass, fog the window with its breath, sometimes lick the glass until it was almost impossible to see through.

Occasionally Howard would edge the window open and reach through and pet the dog, and the dog would smile and its butt would go berserk with pleasure, the tail practically throwing the animal into circles.

Children were almost as wonderful.  Toddlers would come by the window, point at him, and he could see them mouthing his name, showing the few teeth they had, and sometimes laughing and falling back on their diaper.  Someone on the other side would come along and stand them up, steady them.  They would stagger off out of his sight and Howard would sit on the floor and giggle like a two-year-old. 

But the dogs were dearest to him.  Like the babies they never questioned seeing him, they simply accepted it.  But with the dogs it was a joy without reservation.  There was no desire to understand more, or to make sense of what they were seeing, they simply knew they saw him and knew him and loved him.

He sat on the floor, his coffee behind him on the small table, the steam rising from the liquid, a white cloud holding just a hint of sugar and a soupcon of cream.  He sat waiting, perhaps for a year, maybe a lifetime, and then a dog appeared in the grass on the other side of the window.  The same place where sometimes it was a sidewalk or a carpeted room, but now was freshly mowed grass. 

The dog trotted past the window and circled back and looked at him, now his tail ferociously wagging.  His tongue lolled and flipped, his face light with the smile, as he stood with his nose against the glass.  Howard slid the window up and scratched the dogs head.  His coat was thick and grizzled, he saw his eyes were coated and weeping.  Even as the dog’s tail twitched and he moved around, Howard sensed his pain.  Somewhere, someone wondered if it was time.  Howard answered, in his way, that it was.

He rolled onto his feet and went to the door.  He stood there for a moment, and then turned pulled the solid oak door open, felt the world, heard its pain, smelled the life and the death, the yearning and the joy.  And there was the dog, sitting there on the small paver stones, looking at him, his tail pounding the earth behind him.

Howard nodded and the dog bounded through the doorway into his life there.  And in that moment, both of their eternities changed.  His name was Beau and so that’s what Howard called him.  They wandered around the little house until Beau had smelled everything and found where he would sleep.  And then they went out the front door, into that amazing world.

Howard watched him chase squirrels and butterflies, and then they wandered into the forest and Beau smelled everything and then everything.  They roamed to the edge of the land where the blue water splashed and Beau chased the waves and barked at the purple crabs.  They ranged across the veldt, Beau bounding with the antelope, and then racing back to pant at Howard’s feet, proud as a lion, and exhausted.  At night, Howard would sit by the fire and read, and listen to music, and Beau would lay at his feet, full of his favorite food, his coat shiny in the firelight. 

Whatever Howard had wondered was answered.  Whatever pain Beau had was eased.  Some days Howard would look through the window and watch the people there, and Beau would sit at the lower window and greet the dogs that came there.  And on the other side of the glass, the world felt them and wagged and smiled.

Hope this finds you with your best friend,

David

Copyright © 2019 David Smith