Miss Night's Marbles

Musings, mumbles, marvels, and sometimes mockery, live from kindergarten.

A seat by the window

on 4 January, 2015

*I wrote this post on Jan 1, and then somehow didn’t post it. So, you’re getting it now. The intention remains the same. Happy New Year, friends. I hope 2015 has been kind to you so far.

So. It’s 2015.

While I have long been ambivalent about New Year’s Eve, I do love New Year’s Day. A fresh start, a chance to begin again, to try out a new, improved version of one’s self… I like resolutions, even though I am inconsistent about keeping them. January has always seemed full of hope, just as September does.

All day, I have been trying to decide if that is still true, this year. Do I still feel hopeful? Does today feel fresh and different?

The fact is: it doesn’t. The sky is the same. The sun is the same. The snow on the ground is the same. Freddy still wants me to throw his ball. The garbage still needs to be taken out. The candlelight still flickers agains the wall.

The sameness is not a bad thing. To the contrary, there is a certain kind of comfort in it, even hope. The world already feels different enough to be terrifying. The concrete sameness of the sun going down behind the same mountains, and coming up behind the same trees, seems like a message that yes, SOME THINGS are certain.IMG_1606

And at the same time (to amend something I said to My Girl after she had a rough afternoon involving crying in a shopping mall): grief is a sneaky and fickle bitch. And as much as I am deeply comforted by the sameness of the mountains, the sun, the sky, all I have thought about for days is how much I wish I could sit at my dining room table and see out my window, at the same time. I’ve now spent the better part of 2 days rearranging furniture in my little home, so as to see outside while I drink my coffee, eat my dinner, sip my tea.

 

Every single piece of furniture in the main part of my house has been moved, with the exception of my glass-front bookcase, and I’m starting to have a vision of how it could fit next to the desk, and then I could put a bench and some hooks where the bookcase is now… Every plant, every lamp, every piece of art has had to move, too.

So: outside is the same. Inside is entirely different.

I’m sure there is a metaphor here, somewhere. Maybe a couple.

Most importantly: I have a seat by the window.

Windowseat


2 Responses to “A seat by the window”

  1. […] Sunday, friends. I’m once again at my table by the window, and it continues to make me happy to sit here. As my brother (more on him in a second) said: […]

  2. faige says:

    Life can be a “bitch” Amy. Another time for my story. But moving furniture is one way you take control and I say grab it wherever you can.

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