Looking out the window, I see raindrops sticking to the glass, like glistening jewels. The night is consumed by a downpour that soaks everything in sight. A stream of water passes along the curve down into the dip of the pavement that welcomes the family cars back home every day. Seeing all of this before me, I feel like my soul is being cleansed, just like the earth is.

The day is over. Everyone is at home in bed. I'm where I'm supposed to be.

Looking out the window... was the easy part: the lace so soft half-parted like lashes to the outside, a purview safe and vast, from the yards, to the countryside, the seas and the great beyond stretching to the stars. Everything, out there, a time capsule unto itself. A mechanism fragile yet strong. Enough to catch one's breath. This sense of being closed off; a thin sliver of glass impermeable to sound or thought. All was well looking out.

...Catching sight of the hand that pulls the sash... ah, yes, it's the looking in that shatters the mind and heart.

#LookingOutTheWindowChallenge

Looking out the window at night, I watched two girls laughing and walking together and remembered someone I knew a long time ago. I am quiet as one of the girls steps into my garden and bends down to remove one solar light from the path. As she walks away I say, softly from behind the screen "Please put that back", after the startle she said, sounding like any teenage kid talking to mom "But it is sooo cool." I laugh. "Yes. It is, that is why I want it in my garden." Today, I am missing that night.