Windows

 

 

 

 

I had trouble sleeping last night and for some reason my mind went back to a scene from about 30 years ago. At the time, I thought, "This would be a great opening line for a novel."  The problem was, not being a writer, I could never form the perfect sentence.  Let me describe the scene.

It was dusk and I was standing at the kitchen sink after dinner.  Looking out the window I could see three other houses, and though I couldn't see inside them, from each of them I could see a single light from the kitchen window. In that moment I thought about the inter-connectedness of our lives, how many women were standing at kitchen sinks at that moment? How many had stood at those sinks in all the years past or future? It wasn't a gendered feeling, a sense that women were toiling in the kitchen. It was more comforting than that, a sense of timelessness and continuity. But, even then, there was a hint of something else. Loneliness is too strong of a word, but certainly a feeling that I was alone, or solitary.  

So, now someone can take those opposing ideas--connection and solitariness and write a novel!  I've given you a great start.

Not able to sleep, and still struggling with how I could write the perfect opening scene of my never to be written novel, I wondered out into my 17th floor city view living room.  Looking out the windows, seeing all the other lights and activity, but also the dark and quiet buildings, I was reminded of how we go through life surrounded by people, connected to and loved by many, but still alone.

Sounds way more depressing than it felt!  Which is why I'm not a writer.