noitatpmet

After a harrowing morning of dealing with a psychotic landlady and her minion daughter, I let a few workmen into the apartment to work on replacing the windows in our apartment a few days ago. They need to come back to do the rest of the apartment, but right now we have lovely new windows in our kitchen and my office.

Seeing the windows without the frames, though, that jarred me for some reason. This open expanse of clear sweet cool spring air, this feeling of looking out upon a world that was intensely tree green and sky blue and brick red, no rain smudges of dirt on glass, no warped dusty screen filtering the outside.

I stood in the doorway of my office and I took it all in: the messy desk, the bookcase, the table stacked with envelopes full of photos, the pile of papers containing bills and receipts and past due notices and credit card offers ...

I looked at that huge clear gap in the wall and I wanted to take a running leap, to jump out into the sunny world and hope that I'd simply disappear, that I'd exist elsewhere, that I wouldn't fall. Transformation and temptation, ragged edges of scarred wood where old framework had been ripped out.

That pull was strong, the light was golden, the moment was pure. And then it was gone, and I walked away from the door, poker-faced and more than a little sullen.