Windows

I love the old wavy, bubbly glass that is still in some of our windows. I love knowing that Chris and I and my father hand scraped each window of all its paint, repaired each window, reglazed each window, repainted each window. I love how big the windows are, and the simplicity of their four panes. They bear scars from the raccoons and other nibbling creatures. Some hang inexplicably crooked despite my best efforts to straighten them. Most need to be propped up to stay open, but that I do with old wrought iron shelf brackets and I like it. But I think I want new windows.

Spring and Fall Chris hauls the storms up and down ladders, heavy big glass and wood storm windows. They latch into place, and they don’t move. So early warm days or late Indian summer means sweltering rooms upstairs. Some years we just never get to all the storm windows, and I worry I’m stifling the house. I certainly feel stifled. And I swear the house smells when it’s that hot. After all those years of neglect, it’s not about to put up with such lazy maintenance.

And yet those same storms don’t cut it in winter. We certainly needn’t worry about ‘bad air’ in our house. Mostly we have to worry about affording the heat, not freezing our fingers and toes, and how to hog all the blankets. The curtains wave in the breeze. Your hair might wave in the breeze as you sit in the living room. There is snow on our windowsill in the bedroom. Inside.

It is hot right now. There are storms on the windows. There is a ladder laying on the lawn at the ready but there are too many other things to do or it is too windy or it is raining. I am frustrated. The house is suffocating right along with me.