the light through my window

The sunlight works its way through the filmy dust and grimy build up of my windows. It highlights the tree pollen trapped by the mesh of the screen. The light waxes and wanes with the passage of clouds overhead. Sometimes bright and then suddenly dim. During


those bright moments a sort of picture frame forms on the screen due to the shadow of the window frame itself. On my desk the sun seems to gravitate toward the stack of books on at the front corner. The yellow cover of a packet of watercolor paper happily reflects the sunlight in a reminiscent form of sunshine yellow. The light streams into the homemade pottery dish my mother made casting shadows on one side and lighting up the other.

Hmmm. How like our relationship that might be – maybe like the shadows of the past that fade right into the brilliant light of the present. One solitary pen sits in that dish, almost becoming a dividing line, and waiting to have it all written down.

I notice the swirling pattern of the wood within the black painted desk top is highlighted by the sun. The tiny peaks and valleys of ridges dappled in the same manner one might observe over a mountain range. This mountain range poses a different challenge though, rather than a physical climb, I’m faced with the daunting and often times, difficult task of trekking across the paper (or computer screen if you will) filling the space with story as of yet untold.

The very book that allotted this writing excercise captures not only the sun rays, but also the breeze and the paper back cover waves at me in an almost mocking jester jeering me forward in this endeavor.

My eyes next travel to the closet doors to my left, that would be toward the northwest in this northeasterly facing room. On this surface the light captures the wood grains in a similar fashion as that of my desk, only these seem to possess a more ghostly or goulish appearance. I recall being a small child and fearing those monsters in the grainy wood of my door or even the cracks in the ceiling or walls. Remember the story of the woman who thought she was slipping and sliding behind the wall paper of her room. Creepy!

Finally, I notice how this mid-morning light brings out the limy yellowish green of my funky-colored study. I remember choosing it because of its happy hue. I still like it. Sort of changes color depending on just how green it is outside and the amount of light reaching and reflecting from each part of the room. Today it moves from the window as pea green, then limy yellow, and finally to a deeper pea soup green. Perhaps, it doesn’t sound appealing to some, but I like peas and pea soup and I’m happy in my little green abode.

And so, today, I will write.