On, In, and Around Mondays: White Windows
I turn to put a white plate in the white dishwasher. But I can't help looking out the window on my way. White snow catches my eye.
Or, more truly, it is the shadows on the snow. No other time of year lays itself out quite like this, a sparkle canvas to be blue-shadow painted.
I go outside.
Earlier, we had a guest, spontaneous invitation to our table just now covered with white linen cloth. We ate nachos, salad, broccoli... got talking about creative genius Bill Strickland, who works with the poor, bringing them art, music and good jobs with good pay.
"I can't remember how he got his vision for his amazingly beautiful Center."
"He looked out the window," my Eldest answers me.
Evening comes. I serve French toast. My Eldest touches the table cloth, moves it between her fingers, notes that she had put it on upside down.
"Too bad," I say. "Our guest didn't get to see the beautiful handiwork."
"Is it homemade?" she asks, now tracing the tiny taupe stitches that surround delicate cutouts.
"My great grandmother made it as a wedding gift for my grandmother."
We notice that a few of the cutouts never got made. Cloth stretches blank like closed windows we can't look through.
I think to cut the cloth she did not notice. But they were her windows she forgot to open. I decide to let them be.
On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.
If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)