Windows

Rarely do I have trouble sleeping, but last night was one of those rare nights. Last I checked, my conscience was clean. It was the postnasal drip getting the better of me. Every time I neared sleep, a tickle in my throat triggered a cough jump-starting the process all over. During the wee hours, I decided to relocate to the sofa where I could hack in freedom and knock out a few pages of a novel. I never made it to the novel from the activity in my own mind: 

There is a large floor-to-ceiling window directly in view as I lie prone on the sofa. In the dark of night, there is just enough light beyond the window to make shadows dance. As the wind blows, thin branches maneuver across glass panes like the needle of a turntable. The shadows, too, have an accompaniment of sound. 

There is a tinge in my spine as I consider the possibility of something present, something real, encroaching on the solitude of the night. 

Thoughts race, reflecting on things unseen.  

Staring out the window, my mind travels to memories deep in recess. Memories that carry me away to nights sleeping on my grandparents’ foldout couch. I stare out another large window. It is floor to ceiling, providing a panoramic view of the world beyond. Beyond the window stretches a rectangular pool. The moonlight rests on its placid water. To the left, silhouettes of banana trees. To the right, a large tan shed. Only the broad door is illuminated by a warm floodlight. Beyond the pool stands a short wooden fence spanning the yard. A mere shadow in the dark of night. 

Beyond the fence, no kid dares to venture. 

They say a kid wandered down the train tracks years ago, never to return. They say it was due to a mysterious figure who timelessly roams the tracks. No one has ever seen him, just the light from his lantern. They all verify it’s true, including my God-fearing, Sunday School-teaching grandfather. He has no tolerance for those who claim the hant ain’t. If he’s not convinced, he sure fools me.

The chorus of water and wind beyond my window draws my mind from the memory into the moment.     
I reminisce on the power of fear and my intent to keep a watchful eye on the horizon. Surely the light might appear at any moment. The only thing more powerful than fear was the pull of sleep. It always found me before the figure and his lantern.

Some memories are seared in the mind and have the ability to span and compress time.  

Staring beyond the window, my mind strolls effortlessly down memory lane. I think about all the things I used to be afraid of as a naïve child. As I watch the shadows dance across my window, I find myself longing for former innocence. The fears and dreams that once occupied the impressionable mind of a child. A canvas of creativity juxtaposing bewilderment and belief. 

The shadows draw me in. I vaguely grasp the naïveté of my youth. An intriguing world of unknowns. 

As I stare out the window, a tinge of heat travels my spine contemplating what’s beyond.