My Favorite Window

As a student mentor in Short Story, I was asked to participate in the first writing assignment in order to introduce myself to the students I would be mentoring. The assignment was to creatively write about the view from your favorite window, weaving into it aspects of your life. My window immediately came to from The Lake House.

Window to my World

My window was found later in life, as sometimes is the case with treasures. What I affectionately call “The Lake House” is shared half of the time with Shawn, the other treasure in my life (also found later in life). Living in town has its advantages (which I do three days per week), but life in the country nourishes and soothes my soul. I learned to love the freshness of country air, melodious birds, and insect songs and learn to respect the peace found there from the summers I spent at my grandparent’s farm deep in the Ozarks of Arkansas. Those summers engrained deep within me a desire for the easiness of a simpler time with life not surrounded by neighbors and everything concrete.

While a window over a kitchen sink is a common occurrence in many houses, the view from this particular window fills me with peace and love, not only for the house but also for the man who owns it. I gaze out across the wide expanse of lawn (which he is faithful in mowing, not a job I get to partake in) to the time worn and weather-beaten barn. Large and painted red with white-framed windows and a metal roof wearing rust colored patches; it has become a landmark to the community. As I sip my coffee in the early morning, I can see the hammock newly installed this year. A hammock large enough for two wanting to enjoy a summer day spent reading or talking. Planning how, as a couple we will slowly transition the land over to a sustainable little hobby farm. Daydreaming of a small orchard on the hill, a flock of egg-laying hens, perhaps a goat for milk (goat cheese is fabulous) and a large garden. Cooking together our own fresh foods with the herbs and wild raspberries dotted around the yard. Hopeful times glancing out the window reveal rain clouds on the horizon, which brings the blissful promise of listening to the rhythmic music played on the metal roof.

My eyes settle on the porch swing we hung last summer. Not on a porch but on the old frame left standing from a previous gate, when the property housed horses and cows. Our swing faces the lake and the west, beckoning one to sit and watch the sun go down in a blaze of orange and gold fire. Remaining on the swing until nightfall opens your eyes to the wonder of the stars that are brighter where city lights cannot reach them.

The Lake House and Shawn are my haven from the craziness of my life, work and school. The images from my window many times have inspired me to take pencil and paper, writing the thoughts and feelings that are evoked from the changing of the seasons and fluctuating weather which alter this incredible view and my emotions.

Avie Layne 2012