This is the view from the window near my desk. There, in the middle of the drawing, you can just see the sandbox, the slide, the climbing structure. At this time of year, it’s a beautiful little spot, half hidden by leafy branches and dappled light.
What I’ve always loved about this view, especially since having children, is the bridge it creates to the park and trees outside. You can hear children’s sing-song voices from the open window and see the ever-changing curtain of trees at the park — chartreuse in spring, dark rich summer green, gold-orange-brown in fall and then crisp black branches in winter. If my girls are outside with their Daddy or a babysitter, I can hear and see them, and laugh at their leaps or chases, or gasp if they happen to fall down.
Many’s the time we heard a familiar voice and peeked out the window to see, what? Our good friends are at the park! Quick, put on your shoes! Let’s go!
When I think of all the many playtimes I’ve seen, the changes, the many snowmen being built, the many good friends spotted, it makes me so grateful for this magical window. It reminds me of the girls’ favorite book, The Hello Goodbye Window, about a little girl’s special window at her grandparents’ house, where she can see everything that comes and goes.
Will our new home have hello-goodbye windows, too? I hope they do — we’ll have to create some special new traditions, whatever kind of windows we have.