An old, weathered window

An old window, glass knocked out but for one pane, its weathered wood clinging to the last pieces of yellow, watches me each week as I pass it by without notice.

Today it caught my attention. The gaping mouth seemed to call out, "Look at me! Notice me." And so, I did, pausing momentarily to study the peeling paint, the rotting wood, the jagged edges of glass. I imagined a time when sunshine poured through this window, lighting up the space inside. The wood was new and clean and tightly nailed. The fresh paint was thick and bright and drew admiration from all who came to visit.