A Window I Knew Well

I sit in a groaning, rocking chair with my old age around my shoulders causing them to stoop. I push out with my tired feet letting the motion of the chair sooth me while I count the passer-bys on the other side of the window.
The day is weary and wet, the unceasing rain turning every object a shade of gray. The only break in the monotonous color scheme is the various colors of umbrellas. There goes a large blue one, and a child sized flower pattered one, and a red one that had turned inside out and is now drenching the poor man handling it. Gee, what fun an old woman can have! Ha, that is the third green one so far, and look a pale yellow umbrella.
Yellow was once my favorite color. Like fresh butter on toast, or like the dainty flowers that grew behind my mother’s home, or the huge waving sheets on a sail boat at sea.
I close my eyes to the damp world outside and travel to another window, one that I knew very well:

There is no creaking chair here and old age is not my companion. I sit on the cushioned window bench with my strong back strait and my young legs curled under my cotton dress.
This view is what I long for, the beach and its sea. The late afternoon sun reflects in the waving water and the sand reveals its true colors.
The people here are not passer-bys, they smile and invite themselves in, or they simply greet with a tilt of the head. They would never ignore an old woman like me. But that isn’t me, I’m young and brave and beautiful here.
Now I see children bouncing along the beach searching for the perfect spot to build their fortress. The adults watch on while soaking in the warm sunlight or sloshing in the cool sea water.
The sun begins to darken as a few grey clouds invade the perfect blue sky. I can sense a storm is on its way as I watch the sea waves grow larger and less merciful. My heart tightens as I realized I should be afraid, but not for myself.
The adults on the beach scoop up their children and run for shelter just as it starts to rain. I can hear a plinking sound on the window’s glass and I know this isn’t a gentle shower. The clouds are turning a deeper graying purple and they are dancing in the murky sky. Where had the glorious sun gone?
I gaze at the churning sea, willing my eyes to see just a little more clearly. There! Is that it? I think I can see it, a boat that has a wooden hull and pale yellow sails, my favorite color. Yes, that is the one. He is safe now.
My heart stumbles as I see the precious sail boat get taken under by the murderous water. Numbly, I run from the window into a monster of a storm. I can’t see through the wall of rain but I know he needs my help. I have to find him. I have to rescue him from this horrid fate.
I run to where the sand meets the sea, ready to dive into deadly territory. My heart now breaking, I know I will never reach him. I know I will never find him. I know I will miss him.

I awake in the wretched rocking chair, my old age intact. The motion of the chair had stopped when I had fallen asleep so I push out with my feet to get it started again while I try to forget my dream.
I glance out the window in front of me now, the sky is clear and a gorgeous rainbow has placed itself in my direct line of sight. The beautiful rainbow’s hues varied from deep red to light violet, with a hint of palest yellow in the center. Yellow was once my favorite color.