Windows of the soul

I was young in the 60's. We were poor, never owned our own home. My mom was a bottomless vessel of sadness, she really was. She lived for her unfulfilled dreams and sadly she had all the potential in the world to accomplish her dreams...but she didn't.

One of my mom's favorite things was to gaze into other people's windows as we drove by. She wasn't a peeping Tom or a voyeaur she just liked to sneak a peak into a world we didn't live in. I remember riding around in the old Dodge Dart, my dad at the wheel, mom in the passenger seat and me standing up on the floor of the backseat with my head next to my mom's (it was the 60's, seat belt laws didn't exist and kids ALWAYS stood in the car). The popular style of house at the time was the split level which sported big picture windows up front in both the living room and dining room providing us wonderful access into people's lives.

Dusk was the best time to enjoy this activity. Lights would just be coming on inside but the shades would still be open. Dusk also offered the most activity to view. Dinner was being prepared, homework was being done, family life was active at dusk unlike a few hours later when the family would settle in front of the TV or the kids would be shuffled off to bed.

I never remember seeing anything odd or even anything dicey. No women in lingerie were greeting their man at the door with a martini in one hand and a feather duster in the other. I never saw kids being beaten or anything that appeared to be a viscious family battle. I don't recall seeing women in tears alone at a dining room table or kids looking sad and dejected but there must have been bad times in these homes. Did I filter that out?

Most of what I remember seeing were blissful scenes of domestic life. Happy dogs chasing happy kids through the living room into the kitchen. Mom's bending over kids at the dining room table doing homework, things that a modern Norman Rockwell might render in paint.

I still do this. I can't resist. I even expect others to do this. I always open my dining room shades because I'm proud of my dining room and don't mind if people take a peak and maybe say, ohhhh, I like what they did with the light fixture or oh, we have that same centerpiece.

I still only seem to see simple scenes of domestic bliss but I'm older now and much more cynical. Now when I see that I wonder if I'm looking at a blended family and the kids are secretly hating their evil stepmother or if the family is happy or sad, are they broke? Did someone lose a job in the past year? Do they argue too much or not talk at all? I know better than to think that the snapshot I'm scooting past at 25 miles per hour tells the whole story.

But that's just it. We all have a story and we can make that story or let others make it for us. I've found that in adulthood I tend to make up stories for the families I get a sneak peek at. I'll see someone and imagine they are happy or sad, stressed or chill but I'll never really know.

I can write their stories but I can't live them, maybe by writing those little snippets of fiction I'm opening myself up to examining my own dreams and desires, too. Maybe even incorporating hopes and fears in the windows I skim past. Folks, pull up those shades and invite us in for a few fleeting seconds, I promise I'll do no harm, you won't even know I was there...but I'll know and I'll treasure the time we've spent together.