Outside My Window

Outside my window is a green, prickly tree. Next to it is my neighbor's house. I picture his red truck and the noise that comes from his garage at two in the morning. Then I picture myself lying in bed, eyes wide and staring at the grayish ceiling. This makes me remember some of the thoughts I have had those nights when the music from his red truck won't stop blaring. College, careers, dating, money all these and others swirl in my head until the hum of my thoughts lulls me to a heavy sleep.

Outside my window I can see a park. Much to my chagrin, it has no swings. Swings of course are the only reason to have a park. I recall nights swinging at a park other than the one out front of my house with people who are special to me. Most of these were summer nights, when the scent of orange blossoms hung in the air, I ran barefoot through grass and sand, and when I would sweat with the moon high above.

Outside my window I see a lot of things I have seen for a very long time. Eleven years to be exact. But I am moving after this semester. Off to another state, to a new college and I wonder how much I will miss what I know now. I am studying and memorizing the scene around me. I wonder how I could ever forget this place, but I have lived long enough to know that all things fade with time. When I look out my window, life is on my mind.