Mahogany

THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS....

The panes were sweet mahogany, carefully crafted to create a certain sense of serenity. Etched strategically into the rich wood were leaves; not too deep - just perfectly placed in the shallow depths of each frame. The artist must have known the couple. Perhaps understood their personalities, anxieties, fears; for although each window pane looked the same from afar, they were in fact rather different. Endowment rendered, they were individually left with quite distinct dispositions.

Whatever the matter, Roselyn spent most her time gazing purposely out the windows paned with character. What she saw, what she was looking at, is a mystery to anyone. And although her husband would sit with her sometimes, he never did ask what it was she was doing. They'd simply discuss the remote nothingness of the days: what was for dinner, how annoying that songbird was, how time had seemed to pass as gently as a summer's creek.

I wonder though if her mind was quite somewhere else. A far away place. As if the windows were in fact paper with which she was writing a story. Each chapter thoughtfully embossed into the glass sheets; living, breathing, life both inside and outside the house.