A passerby’s wonderings

I have walked by this house dozens of times. The two-storied home rests beside a small plot of farmland, and today, fresh leaves unfurl from the earth. The house is lovingly adorned with colorful flowers, which flourish in the spring air. Sometimes laundry hangs outside. Sometimes an elderly couple sits at a two-seated table on the front lawn. I wonder what their life is like. Do they enjoy meals together every day, never running out of things to say? Do they lead a quiet life, fulfilled by each other’s company? Are they happy?

I continue down the street and pass a duplex with three kid’s bikes parked out front. Children’s shirts dry in the breeze. Vibrant plastic toys lay forgotten in the parking lot. What is life like for this growing family? Do the parents sleep enough? Do the children dance with imaginary friends and fight with their siblings? Are they happy?

Finally, I reach my own apartment and stare at the curtained window facing the street. Does anyone pass my residence and fantasize about the life within? Does anyone observe my drying laundry and imagine what kind of person wears them? What am I like in their minds? How does my life unfold? Am I happy?