window dressing

When I was 16 years old, I had the first of a recurring vision - a window overlooking a street. Sunny. Beautiful. Clean, crisp lines - good design. Modern. I knew that if I ever saw myself looking out of that window, I would be successful - I would be doing my purpose. I always thought the window looked like San Francisco - on a row of tightly packed houses lining an angled street. I pictured myself in a dark business skirt suit with a brief case...a professional.

I've been wearing that outfit as I looked out of modern windows from apartments in Elmhurst, Chicago, Madison, and Seattle. But it's today - sitting in a grey Sonics t-shirt with rolled up white cotton pants, a baby sleeping in my lap - that I'm looking out of his bedroom window over the valley of neighbors' homes and trees thinking for the first time, "this might be the window."

Tomorrow, the 4th of July - the U.S. Independence Holiday - is my "dependents" day. I'm unemployed but my "job" is snoring in my lap. I won't be back to work in three months (assuming we manage our money well ;), this isn't another maternity leave. When I signed off of the secure server on Thursday, that was it. Now, I must not dwell on what once was or could be, I must focus on the moment....his raspy breath, the birds in the neighbor's apple tree, the hum of cars on 15th street, wind chimes next door, the fan in the living room, dogs yelping a few houses down...these are the sounds floating through the window. Sounds I had not stopped to listen to during the time this room was my office.

I always thought the window meant "success" - apparently it means "present."