The windows that keep me safe from outside

*We’ll deliver your parcel between 11am and 1pm* promises the email from the delivery company. I can’t help but feel sparks of anticipation when I read this. Something exciting will happen today! So, at 12:17 when the doorbell rings, I know exactly what it is: five new notebooks because I just don’t have these ones, Dad, they’re not the same as all the others! The delivery driver has left the parcel outside and are on their way to the gate, but I sprint down the hall to my front window to wave and say thank you very much! The effort of running is worth it to interact with someone new. It is exhilarating to see a different face; one that isn’t my mum’s or my dad’s, and there’s also only so many times I can study my features in the mirror from absolutely every single angle possible to determine what I actually look like.

Later on, when I’ve decided I’ve had enough of pretending to do my uni work, I sidle into mum’s study to see how her Zoom call went. But she’s not all I see: from her window I can see Neighbour over the road. I let Mum know that Neighbour’s out there, but she doesn’t seem to hear; she’s preparing for her next Zoom call of the day. I sigh and pick Dog up for a cuddle. I sing to her as I continue to spy on Neighbour, who’s now pottering about trimming the hedges. I wonder how she’s doing and hope she’s safe. I wonder about how she’s getting food and keeping busy. But I know she has family with whom she’s close, so she’s probably okay, even if a bit lonely. I think we’re all lonely. Who knew isolation could be so… isolating?

I put the dog back in her bed, return to my room and actually make a start on my assignment. I’m reading about something I surprisingly find fairly interesting when I hear a noise outside. My eyes fly to the window and my head cracks as it turns to see Blackbird landing on the fence outside my room. I stare at him while he cockily hoos and considers me with that tilted head and inquiring eye. My brows furrow; how dare he interrupt me when I’m working so hard! I think I’m envious of him. He can go wherever he wants to go, see whatever wants to see, while I’m sat here in the four walls of my childhood bedroom, in the four walls of the house I grew up in. I have nothing in common with this bird. I turn my back on him and realise I’m scowling. I can’t bear to look at the sight of freedom.

I’m in the kitchen making a chorizo sandwich which I definitely don’t make for lunch every day when Dog lets out a bark so explosive it makes her entire body defy gravity. I don’t have to guess twice what she’s seen out the patio window. It has to be Cat, next door’s white as snow, butter wouldn’t melt furball, with her flicking tail as she taunts Dog. Dog’s flurry of crazed yelps does not subside, so I go and squint out the window towards the garden. Sure enough, Cat is there, seemingly smiling as she regards us through the dusty glass because she knows she is safe out there, where Dog can’t get her. Dog doesn’t realise that she’s safer inside; Cat is bigger and far more calculating than Dog could ever dream of being. The soundtrack of frenzied yelps and barks does not subside, so I step into our safe outside, take a big breath of sweet air and shoo Cat away, who hop, skips and jumps over the fence into a different jungle to explore. I turn on my heel to see Dog glaring at me through the window, she can’t believe I’ve gone outside without her.

I continue to dance around mum, peering out the window to see if my dance matches the pace of the world beyond. Alas mine is rather static and stiff, but the breeze curls around the bodies and the cars and the trees. Their movements are purposeful and strong, yet soft and understated. It’s almost as if there’s no reason to stay indoors; perhaps I could just unlock the front door and arabesque down to the pavement and pirouette to Beryl’s to say hello. I don’t have time to even finish thinking my thought when an ambulance rushes past the window filling my ears with wails and my eyes with neon and my heart with sadness. The trance is torn, and I remember my climate.