When I was growing up, my bedroom faced north, toward the pond and the gentle swell of a hayfield. And the chicken yard, which meant that any time a raccoon got into the henhouse, I was the one who raised the alert. No wonder I’m such a light sleeper.
I don’t know at what point it happened, but I discovered the beauty of that view, a beauty ever changing, depending on weather and time of day and season. I shoved my bed up in the corner, and from then on I did everything stretched out across the bed, where I could look outside: homework, Journaling, spinning stories. At night, I shoved my pillow in the window frame and watched the sun set, then rolled over and pressed my head against the screen so that I could see as many of the stars as possible. And that was how I fell asleep: listening to the sound of the crickets amid the clover and foxtails.
I also took to having long philosophical discussions with no one, a narrative of my day, and all the people in it. I learned to analyze my own reactions and feelings, and came to new insights. I’m not sure at what point I realized I was praying, not just spouting opinions at the sky. I was actually seeking, in those seemingly one-way conversations with the stars.
A teenager doesn’t place a lot of value on listening prayer. And yet, as I learned the shapes of the constellations, saw them shift through the year, and sent my words winging toward them, stillness crept over me, a stillness that finally succumbed to sleep. And of all the beautiful memories of my childhood, that sense of stillness, which always came on as I grew close to sleep at last, is preeminent among them. It was a stillness of the earth—of insects chirping and coyotes howling and bullfrogs pulsing their low, laid-back grunts. It was a stillness unbroken by human noise, except when an occasional car rumbled down the road in a thick cloud of dust. There were many times when, in the throes of some adolescent moral quandary, I remember envying the simple placidity of the singers’ existence.
I suppose I am thinking of it today, in this very early morning, because we slept with the windows open last night. In the wake of a cold front, the interstate noise succumbed to distance, and all I heard was that familiar hum and pulse of nature, the soundtrack of my childhood. This morning, of course, the traffic noise is back, but all through the night I woke repeatedly, just long enough to reassure myself that the stillness still pulsed outside my window.
I dream of someday returning to a remote place where I never have to listen to jet braking and tires squealing and the incessant roar of humanity. A place where I can once again shove my pillow into the window frame and stare up at the vastness of the universe.
But today, as the sky begins to lighten on this, my thirty-sixth birthday (see, I’mnot afraid of sharing my age), it’s time to seek ot the holy in a different place. One that involves very little stillness or serenity, but an awful lot of sweetness.
In other words, time to rouse the munchkins for school.
Happy birthday young lady .. hope it;s a wonderful day
Kate, I enjoy reading your posts each day. Your writing is incredible. You paint wonderful pictures with words.
This is beautiful writing, Kathleen. And happy birthday to a beautiful, graceful woman — I’m so glad to have gotten to know you in this big-small blogland.
We slept with the windows open last night, too — the cool air was so lovely and fresh. And I laughed when I read that as a kid you pushed your bed right up against the window. One day not too long ago I came upstairs to see that my son had rearranged his room — with his bed pushed right up against the window. Aesthetically it didn’t look too great…but now I see the benefits of having that day and night view. It’s amazing how much we see, perched on his bed, gazing out the window.
Happy Birthday! Enjoy such a wonderful, glorious day.
A BEATIFUL POST AND PICTURE.
HAPPY,HAPPY BIRTHDAY,KATHLEEN.
Happy Birthday to You Kathleen! Hope you have a wonderful day!
What a BEAUTIFUL piece of writing from a beautiful mind and heart! Thanks for sharing, Kate. Happy, happy birthday!
Happy birthday!
What a beautiful post on this day; it reminds me of the view I looked out upon at my house growing up. It was our living room window, and I’d look out over hillside and trees while doing my homework.
Happy Birthday Kate! Love the picture you create, you say it so well! Enjoy this, your 36th, with darlings in hand. Let them love you extra special–steal hugs and kisses when you can, nothing like a little kid hug and kiss to remind you how loved you are 🙂
May your Maker bless, kiss, uphold, guide and protect you today and through the year….
It’s late but, Happy Birthday!
This is a beautiful post. It reminds me of all the hours I spent staring off into the horizon at the Jersey Shore when growing up. When I finally got my driver’s license, I would go to the beach at night and stare at the sky, the stars and the water, being lulled by the stillness.
God bless.
Happy birthday! great post!
Let me join the others in wishing you a happy B-Day! For me, it’s just another un-birthday, as the Mad Hatter in “Alice in Wonderland” would say.
And a wonderful post! You certainly do have a way with words. My windows are set too far up in the wall for me to push my bed against them and get a good view of the great outdoors. But those simple things can bring such pleasures!
Have a blessed week! And may you be blessed with many more happy birthdays! 🙂
Evan
Evan, I have lived in apartments with windows high up in the walls. Always drove me crazy.
Thanks for the b-day wishes. 🙂
Birthday blessings!
I know the stillness of which you speak.. after 43 years of urban life, I have spent the last 10 in the country.
In the peace and the silence, God speaks loudly in a whisper.
How I love sleeping with the windows open. The air. The sounds. The night, just on the other side.
Thanks for sharing with us. 🙂