VISIONS

GLASS VELVET

 

The sun gleams, glistens all day into the windows on the east side of our house. It's warmth and beauty never bore me. Often I watch it disappear for a short time. About 5 p.m. it comes out from behind the house to the west side and wears a new face. It can be brilliant red, orange as a fresh tangerine or lemon yellow. Once in a while it looks so pale, it is almost transparent and I search for a bird, perhaps an angel to appear. It is important to me to keep my windows spotless, at least inside the house. I used to climb our tallest ladder to do the outside ones until the ladder and I fell in opposite directions. Andrew, my husband of 51 years, can't wash the windows either but he would bring me the sun, if he could. He has hired a window washer once a week as long as the weather is clear.

 

The gray skies of winter chill me. The sun's flames go out. I don't. My days drag. My chores are not neglected. I prepare delicious, full dinners every night for Andrew and me. He goes to the super market for me three times a week and buys whatever I have listed. When tulips bloom, I can expect sunny yellow ones, brilliant red ones from Andrew. They soothe me, tide me over until the days are longer than the dark nights.

 

I am definitely getting crotchety, long for the grass to grow as high as an elephant's eye, for the trees to bud, their long arms to turn all shades of green. In the pantry I have a long, light weight squeegee to reach the top of our high narrow windows, to take away the moisture that sneaks down the glass from the inside when it is cold and damp. That time has just about passed this year. The very first pale green blades of grass are strong enough to come up to see my sun. I hear the wind blow down the chimney before I feel it. The pale, almost ashy white sun disappears. In the morning the tender blades of grass have died. Brown winter still holds on. Andrew and I challenge each other with separate decks of card. We play Solitaire to see who gets the most points on top, penny a point. I do believe he throws the game to let me win as often as I do. The full moon shines into our kitchen. It is so beautiful but I cannot bear to watch the dark clouds over it, leave the starless sky empty.

 

The time finally arrives, as it has for many years. The sun glows, the lost tips of grass begin to raise their heads. Each blade thrives. In two weeks our lawn is green, verdant. It flourishes, is luxurious. I smile. I talk to my new friends, watch the tulip bulbs sprout and soon the colors clash or blend. The sun tastes good to every growing thing.
And I am in my glory, forgetting temporarily what will happen again next October. Now is now. My windows are sparkling. I look through them again and seethe grass is not grass at all. It is a sheet of velvet, a gift from my clean windows.

 

I take off my shoes and go out for a long walk on my glass velvet.