Window, is the vital part, connecting two difference spaces, that people are more than accustomed to. I must’ve come across countless windows as I grew up. And, the windows I’d encountered at different ages, must have meant different things to me too. It’s just that the feelings I took, to look through those windows are different, that sort of an expectation, it never got washed away by the rushing tides of time.
As a child, I lived in a small two-story building built by the Japanese, in the staircase leading to the outside, covered with moss, there is an empty lot. Through the small window of our kitchen, I can get a very clear look at what’s going on outside. That window was actually very large, it’s just that it’d only been opened to the size of a legal piece of paper. And because it faced the stove, and so, there were oil stains on it constantly, the screens had gone from white, to caramel yellow, and I’d always loved pressing my hand on that sticky window, so my hand would have the patterns.
Of course, that, was not what’s most nostalgic about the windows from my childhood years. As I was playing downstairs with my childhood playmates, I’d expectantly hoped that the window will be pulled open, because that means that dinner’s served, my grandma would tilt her head out, and call out to me. When I’m too tired from playing, I’d lift my head, and, through the window, I would see what seemed to be my grandmother, busying about, and I’d smelled the aromatic food she’s preparing, hoping that the small window will get pulled back, and I’d hear my grandma holler. Maybe, that, was the most satisfaction in a child’s life, I suppose.
As I grew older, I’d moved into a tall building from the small house we’d lived in. And, even though, I didn’t have the fun of my childhood years anymore, but there’s still another kind of expectation. Because my hometown is in north country, as the winters come, the windows will get frozen stiff. And, there would be jack frost on the windows too. After the winters set in, the jack frost would get extremely hard, and the window become opaque, and, the house is separated by that film of ice.
The snow could, in just one night, paint the entire city over. Being curious, I’d always rushed to the windows, can’t wait to see the newly coated city, painted over by the snow and the frost. The hardened frost didn’t stop me, I’d pressed my warm hands on the icy windows, and managed to melt away the ice, then, I’d used my sleeves, to wipe away the melted places, that, was the moment I looked forward to the most. Every snow can refurnish the city into different styles. Through that small, transparent window, I greedily enjoyed the beautiful world outside, and I couldn’t help myself.
Windows are a kind of hope, the changes are imminent, you never know, what the world would be like, after you’d opened a window.
And so, you’d carried your childhood state of mind, as you grew up, and, because the memories of windows has meanings for you, you’d looked for different windows, and see if you felt the same when you came across the various windows, like when you were a child.