Window Gazing

There is no window to the outdoors in my office. This is a good thing. I get so little done as it is. Many of my homeschooled years were spent sitting at my desk and staring out the window with a forgotten text book open in front of me. (Don't tell my Mom.) At my internship, there is a window in the office and it takes effort to keep my eyes from wandering outside while a half-written progress note waits paitently on the desk.

I thank my Mom for this insatiable imagination. I thank her that I can entertain myself for hours with only my thoughts. I got this from the many afternoons I spent sitting at the coffee table, coloring, while my Mom read to us.

Our reading ritual was one of the great things about my childhood. I took pride in my own coloring book, which was a messy contrast to Jessica's perfect, within-the-lines artwork and Darin's hard, deep coloring. Mine compared more with Rebecca's, seven years my junior. When I was learning to read I often stopped my Mom mid-sentence to see how a new word was spelled - "Where does it say that?" - and she would point to the word in the book and then continue reading. As I got older I used colored pencils instead of crayons. I asked about longer words. I asked about meanings. Origins. I enjoyed this time for years and it segued neatly into the years when I began reading to myself.

We journeyd through the entire Little House series, The Chronicles of Narnia, everything by E.R. White, the Secret of NIMH and plenty of historical fiction.

My Mom also told us stories a lot. Our favorites were about Benny and Bessy (get it - Jenny and Jessie). I don't know what those two kids did, but I remember begging my Mom to tell me more about them.

I now combine all of these words and story lines in my mind. I can fill in the blank of "what if..." in a heartbeat. I love reading. I love to imagine the possibilities. Staring out the window continues to mesmerize me.