The window

 I sit looking out the window at the distant fields. In my mind, I see myself as a boy running through the cornfields. When my youth and strong legs once seemed limitless. Eventually, I ran out of breath and had to rest. The house was at least a mile away. The walk was quiet, except for the wind racing through the corn. As I got closer, my dog Randy came running. He was 14 now, no longer fast. His once-athletic body had fallen prey to old age, as it had us all. He walked beside me like he had done his entire life. Randy passed away the next year, and with great sorrow, I buried him on the hill he loved to climb overlooking the farmhouse that he called home.

Looking out the window again, I can see my dad working on a broken-down tractor, cursing like a drunken sailor until Mom came out on the porch, pointing upwards, meaning god was watching him. Dad laughed but promised her he'd tone it down. I can clearly see fresh-cut grass under an oak tree, where picnic tables were set up as a Sunday picnic was taking shape.

I sit at the window and see rows of cars and trucks coming up the dirt road, going slowly so as not to stir up the dust. Handshakes all around and kisses on the cheeks for the little ones, some escaping under a picnic table to avoid a pinch on the cheek that left a mark the entire day.

I can smell the meat cooking on the grill and dish after dish of good cooking, all brought together today to celebrate and give thanks for the bounty they have been blessed with. I sat looking out the window, the shadows began to fade, and the old picnic table, now pieces of the past, returned to the ground from which it came. The cars and trucks drove into the future with well-fed and tired kids falling fast asleep for the long ride home.

My life was outside that window, the good and the bad, the lessons learned, and the word of God. Mom reminded all of us at any given time. My races through the cornfields with Randy, both of us in our youth and unstoppable. Standing outside, cameras clicked countless times as my date and I said goodbye on our way to the Spring dance with a stern warning from her father to me that there would be hell to pay if she wasn't home by midnight. Pictures of a first tooth lost, a new bicycle for a birthday, and a few pictures mom didn't approve of, like when she was working in her garden.

As the years went speeding by and death appeared at our door on numerous occasions, I lost something inside of me, with every one but my memories were strong, and I called on them every day as I looked out that window and replayed my journey over and over again. wondering who would look out my window when all they would see was a pane of glass and a few smudge marks where I pushed my nose against it as Randy went running by.

Mike   2026