Moon River Dreams.

When I was a younger girl with bigger dreams...

I had a bedroom window.

The walls surrounding my window were painted purple, a pale shade, the color almost undetectable. Everyday, my little dreaming heart would look out that westward facing window. In the mornings the sun, that was rising on the other side of the house, would give light to the houses and plants and people and air down below. I would watch the light change. I love the colors of the early morning. I have seen many sun rays, raindrops and snow flakes light up, fall, and whirl around the earth… all while safely sitting on the other side of the glass. There was no screen fitted to this window, this was an uncommon trait in our house. I would like to think the other windows would be jealous from time to time. In the summer, you had to be careful about opening the window, or the pale purple room would be filled with flying insects. I once put a record player directly under the window on top of a little wooden table. That was the best loved part of my room. If I cranked the broken handle to open the window, the neighborhood could hear the sweet old style melodies of record player. During these times, the roof was such an inviting place to crawl out to (a past time my sister and I would relish... and my parents would loath). In the evening, the sunset would appear, followed by the deeper colors of night. There were so many days I would run up all our stairs, chasing, hoping all the wonders of the setting sun would wait for me for few more moments… so that my eyes could behold and my soul be at peace. It never lasted more than a few moments, sometimes I believed those moments were created just for me. My later years taught me that someone else is always watching, that the Lord’s creations are meant to be enjoyed by all who will allow themselves to see.

*******
The view from my bedroom window showed me many things… the trees in our yard, the animals, the neighbors grilling there Sunday night meals. The birds would periodically come to say hello and sing me a song. The winters were harsh, no songs, no tunes, no melodies to make the window more enjoyable.

There was always the hope of Spring.
I could see the lighted steeple of the church in the distance, and at night I always pretending it was a floating steeple, sent to send me light in the dark. I didn’t always know it was a sign of things to come.
From that window, I saw my dreams form in the stars. I wished upon every one of them. I asked them to help me escape, to help me create a life that I know now was always inside me. A life I knew was waiting for me across the distant horizon of the views from my window.

*******
Of all the views that my white painted window pained glass shell would show me - my favorite - was the moon. I looked for her every night. She became my dearest friend. I have told the moon many things I have never told anyone else. I was always jealous that she would get to go away for a while to see the rest of the world, I used to ask to go with her. After her travels, she always came back to my window, sometimes full of light, and other nights, only a shadow meant to bring me a little ray of comfort. I didn’t care how she came, seeing the moon was proof to my little girl heart that I was not forgotten.

*******
Then a day came and I was brave enough to stop dreaming, and make one of them happen. My little girl heart was now somewhat a grown up girl heart, bleeding and wounded and ready to start anew somewhere else. I never knew that window would be the place that I climbed out of one night, underneath those stars and that moon. That I would sneak away and say goodbye and never look back, and find a new life. I never knew that in the westward horizon I longed for is where I would find love, peace, healing, truth and a new heart. a new meg,
someone I am trying hard to hold on to.

*******
On may 19^th, It’s been 5 years since I climbed out of that window.

I knew then,
when I opened the window,
let the cold night air wash over me,
climbed out on to the roof,
jumped down on the grass…
that I would have to start over.

I knew then as I know now –
I will never get to go back,
never again talk to the moon from that window.

*******
As a tribute to the moon and to my window, here is a melody that I think they would enjoy. Hopefully in the vast country of the west, my huckleberry friend is listening as well.