Through My Open Window

3:57 PM

I give my bedroom window a tug - pushing it with all my might, the window protesting but coming to stop right where I want it - right where I can heard the birds and see my town laid out before me.
It's early morning, the dew still on the ground. Across the street I watch two dogs jumping around excitedly as our elderly neighbor pats their heads - the dogs both obviously  loving the attention.
I shift my eyes to the field beside the neighbor's house; the sun sparkling on the wet grass, the trees casting shadows on the morning dew.
The sun is slowing rising up over the mountains, and the sky hazing, promising another humid day.
I can hear one of our elderly neighbors, whose house across the street a ways and hidden behind trees - his voice drifting through the window, loud and friendly, saying hi to someone who just dropped by. You can hear his conversation almost as if he was standing  right there in the room with you, but I've grown used to  hearing it so I don't mind.
I lean against the pillows on the bed, listening to the comforting sounds through my bedroom window. The sounds - neighbors talking, dogs barking, birds, all these so familiar, I can't imagine a morning without them.


I based this little story from a journal entry I wrote a few months back during one spring morning. I thought I'd share it with you, though I don't know how it sounds (I'm not very good at these things). Have a great day everyone!

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