The Meaning of a Window

Although it may just be a cleverly designed piece of glass on a house, a window can be much more than just something to look out of. A window can be a place to contemplate life on a breezy fall day. A window could be used to feel sad when it’s raining. A window could be a place to look out on a blazing hot summer’s day, where you are always wondering whether you should go outside. A window could even be a place to see snow outside, and then decide to start or not to start a fire in the fireplace.

Outside of my window, I see a landscape, as well as memories. I see a long expanse of grass. I see a wide area of snow. I see so much lacrosse gear that I have been using for a long time. I can see myself falling on landscaping rocks, then going to get stitches put into my head because of the gaping gash my head endured when I slipped on the wet grass while playing capture the flag. I can see myself playing pass with my brother and our lacrosse sticks. I can see myself playing out in the snow with the 4 layers of clothing my mother made me put on before I went out. I can see the spot where my dog likes to roll in worms and then bite me as I try to pick him up to take him inside. I can see where my brother dominated me in a water balloon fight. I can see where everything happens, and where more things could happen. 

A window is not just a piece of cleverly designed glass, sitting in the middle of a house, wanting to be used just to glare at neighbors, or to be broken by the cliche of a baseball. A window is a tool; a tool to be used to see your life out of, a tool to be used to daydream, a tool to be used by anyone anywhere. A window is everywhere. A glance at a window is a view on an opportunity. A window is a void, waiting to be filled with imagination. When we peer out of a window we see more than what is already there, we see ourselves there. 

You are looking into a window right at this precise moment. And the window you are looking at right now is not a cleverly designed piece of glass on a house, or a fun little mirror, this window is my writing. You are peering into my life, my landscape right now to judge me, to look upon me, to put yourself into my shoes. When we read, we don’t just look at some boring words, black text on a white page, symbols on a meaningless spot. We imagine that fight scene, we imagine that betrayal, we imagine Lord Voldemort’s ugly-looking face. 

We imagine everything behind that page, behind that window. Because that is what truly makes the window special, it’s not the sheer fact that it is a window, but what lies behind the window that makes it truly special. I could tell you all about my strip of grass that I call a backyard. I could drone on and on and on, but that’s boring. No one would want to waste their time reading that garbage. That would be like watching advertisements for fun. 

Outside my window, I see everything that has gone down in my life, and what I can only imagine will go down. Although a window may be a cleverly designed piece of glass, it is also a gateway to the reality of imagination. A window takes the shape of a book, a television program, maybe even a video game. A window is all of these because a window is a portal, the catalyst, to the newer story, and a reflection of the journey that has been taken. 

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