She Gets the Window Seat

She's facing me, putting on make-up. Her back is to the window, a blur of green and stone in the background. She's 23, living in a brownstone apartment in Brooklyn. She growing leaps and bounds in a marketing position at a financial company. And she's an anointed minister in training.

Yet, in my heart, when we get on the train, I yield to her as if ushering my 3 year old Girlie into her seat for a train adventure. We used to take the train to Long Island all the time. We did so much make believe play with the window and windowsill as our everything. Our imaginations would come alive to bake cakes, play school, parade dolls across the stage. I'm not sure if we ever just simply looked out the window. It was our window to the world, far beyond the view of Garden City or Mineola.

Now at 23, the window seat was just a good spot to prop up her scarf to lean into for a nap, it's a safe alternative to aisle seat bumps. She only occasionally looked up from a text to contemplate her reply. Did she see the trees, the river, the rock walls?

This is our Monday morning routine when she comes home for the weekend. Neither one of us are enthused to say goodbye to the family feel good time. Nor are we really smooth with getting out of the house. We sort of blast out and grumble while making our way up the station platform.

When we get into our seat, ignore the fact that I would be more excited about my morning if I could soak in some Hudson Valley scenery. But, oh well, I make myself comfortable spilling from my aisle seat into our shared middle seat. Sometimes Val doesn't even lean on the window seat she too leans into the middle.

If it's a really tough Monday, she leans on me. I let her, as know my reward will be a chance to lean closer to the window and gaze.

Watching her this morning, I don't mind giving my daughter the window seat. I don't mind her preoccupation when she sits there. I watch her and know she's in the early stages of career and just starting to take trips abroad. I see far beyond our commuter train window seat and am thankful that God will show her much and take her far.

Her's will not be a window seat, it will be an open window to the world.


2 Comments Add yours

    1. Thank you for giving it a read. Check out “She Prayed for Oji” — you might like that too.


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