from inside my window
The bedroom window in my college apartment overlooks the lower southeast edge of campus, a gravel parking lot full of cars (mainly between the hours of 7-5pm on weekdays) and two sidewalks that are never not sprinkled with people.
My room exists on the 5th floor of the apartment complex, located on the very corner, meaning 3 of my 4 walls are shared with the buildings outer edge. My window is hung directly perpendicular to the intersection below me and its addition pays for the rent in itself. I too often find myself frozen to her decadence, completely enthralled by the view she provides. On average, we share 30 minutes each day together- as I observe, stand, and stare through her lens. In the mornings I open my shades to welcome the outside world and allow its invading light to blind the scattered thoughts that piled throughout the night prior. I rely on her to show me the weather for the day, further deciphered by the layers (or lack) of clothing worn by the people walking the sidewalks below. I’ll watch the cars in the gravel lot park, rearrange themselves, and then park again. Some sit idling, while others are abandoned in a frantic hurry. I also know the cars that park along my block. I notice when there are newcomers and when others never return. I’m familiar with the dogs that frequent the “park” across the street and their owners that likely live adjacent to me. I know when the street will grow quiet and empty and when the stars will come out for a short visit. She’s given me full moons on dark nights and beautiful sunsets to celebrate the long days.
There are some instances when I must shut my shades the moment I enter my room for the night, otherwise I will fall succumbed to her perplexing presence. I’ll stand in front of her for so long staring, searching, as if there is something, someone, or anything specific for me to find. I can’t put my finger on it, but when I look outside I feel as though there is something significant that I am missing. Like there is a reason I need to be searching, eyes locked, attempting to piece together what I am intended to be looking for in the first place. Or maybe when I’m looking out my window, I’m actually reflecting inward on myself- what am I searching for? What am I missing? Who am I missing? What are these unidentifiable questions that I so desperately need answers to? Maybe I’ve spent too long looking to the world for the answers that I can only find within myself and I notice that this window I’ve spent days looking out of, is really a dirty mirror and the woman staring back at me is still deciding whether she should wear her hair up or down for the day.
