Through my Window

      Lying on my bed, propped by the open window, I see a world that I have yet to physically discover.  In the endless horizon that is my imagination, I see the universe out of my window.  My thoughts drift delicately pass the kudzu covered fence and into the backyard of a house that two women have made into a home embodied in love.  Through their kitchen window, I can see a beautiful, dark-haired woman preparing a dinner for two.  The peach cobbler she has prepared floats into my window like a soft, cooling breeze carrying the aroma of a warm welcoming.  I do not know the woman that I see, but I know she is kind and graceful.  I call her Grace.  Her face lights up this evening when her wife steps into the door, entering into the atmosphere of home that Grace makes for her each day.  I call her Rose.  Her elegance is not dulled by her soft sophistication, and her gratefulness to her wife is not hindered by her desire to take care of her.  Grace’s soft figure leaves the kitchen window, reappearing as a shadow on the living room wall.  The thin outline of Rose appears along-side Grace.  A briefcase is set by the table at the door, and a jacket is hung in the closet.  Two shadows merge into one as the players in love embrace each other and the life they have made together.  For Grace and Rose, time slips along a line they do not see.  Time, for a never ending moment, does not exist.  Through my open window, I see the purest of all things; the union of two humans being played out across the yard that divides them and me.  And every time I peer into the home they share, I pray for my God to bless my life as he has theirs.