Window to My World

I catch her watching me. Her eyes return to her book but just a little too quickly, a little too rushed. Something in the way she reads makes me smile; the book, just a fraction too close to her face, one too many lines of concentration on her brow. She pushes a wayward strand of hair from her face and hooks it gently behind her ear. I continue to watch her as she turns the page. Just a moment longer I think, and then it happens. Her eyes move in my direction once again and this time for a second longer. I knew she wouldn’t let me down.

I settle back into my chair to the satisfying groan of leather I know so well and listen to the soft popping of the fire next to me, feeling its glow. This is my chair, my place. I raise my glass and take long drink. The landlord looks my way and gives me a smile.
“Ready for another, Gary?” Always the businessman, Pete. Never an empty glass when he’s around.
“You know me too well, Peter.” And he does. I never could refuse another.

You see, for me, it’s all about the atmosphere; the hushed voices broken by the occasional hearty laugh, the musky smell of wood smoke, the beams, and the warmth of the fire against the chill of the stone. This place lives. No, more than that, it doesn’t just live, it breathes. People come and go as a heart beats. This place has seen everything, from the children that squeal as they run around the gardens, to the couples that retire to the quietest candlelit corners. It has witnessed marriage vows made, tested and broken in the sup of a pint.

I survey the room. Huge wooden beams snake their way across the ceiling and disappear into ragged stone walls. To one corner, Bill spills his dominoes out onto the table, slowly fading behind a wave of cigar smoke. He must be on a winning streak today. He would always say, “Cigars, my boy? The reward of champions!”
John faces him, ready to do battle again. This war has raged for years. Here, at this very table, a friendship has formed, a rivalry grown, and now companionship blooms.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply. When I re-open them she is there, standing right in front of me. I had almost forgotten about her. She smiles at me and takes a step closer. As she holds her hand out to me I notice how it trembles ever so slightly and how her other hand clutches her book to her chest with white knuckles. I find my eyebrows rising – and here was I thinking I had her all figured out. I chuckle to myself as she introduces herself and I ask her to sit with me. Pete steps from behind the bar and places two drinks on the table. How does he do it? Never misses a trick.

You see this for me is where life actually exists. Not the life we watch on television, or read about in newspapers, but real life. This is where it all begins and it all ends. This is my window to the world.