The October sun is casting a wide golden swath across the lawn outside my office door. The sugar maples and old oak trees behind the stone wall are coloring up their leaves waiting for the next big wind to send armfulls of autumn sailing to the ground. I can’t stop looking out the window. Over the tops of the piles of papers, folders, sticky notes of reminders of things to do, appointments to keep, reports to write, is this amazing beauty.
I’ve been looking longingly out windows my whole life. My earliest memories of elementary school are sitting at a cramped wooden desk filled with unorganized papers, knowing I hadn’t done the homework right the night before and that I’d be called on in a minute and wouldn’t know what the answer was but, instead of focusing on my school work, I looked out the window to the crooked row of sparrows sitting on the telephone line that ran from the school to the house next door. I couldn’t stop looking at them. The clouds moved slowly in the background, suddenly and silently the birds one by one lifted up and flew away as if it was a practiced routine. I was called on. I didn’t know the answer. I didn’t really care.
Today the trees outside my office windows are turning oranger and golder by the minute, the birds fly to the feeders and land softly, grab a bite to eat and sail to a higher branch to crack open a sunflower seed. I won’t have my report done on time. I have research to finish, and emails to answer. But I can’t stop looking out the windows and I don’t really care.
“Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen.”