Beyond the Glass

“Stand here. A little bit to the left. Not that much. Perfect.”

She held his hand, trying to position him at the only vantage point she could, to show him what she saw in her head.

“What am I looking at?” he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

“That view,” she said, her eyes lost in whatever she was drawing his attention to, “it looks like heaven, feels like heaven. Imagine waking up every day to this.”

He looked up at her. This was one of those few times she was propped on a higher surface and he had to look up instead of down, as he was used to. Their height difference was sometimes comical, and they laughed about it as often as they could.

They had wandered away from the crowd during the full-moon bonfire and ended up dreaming together.

“What are you talking about?”

“That view, that patch of grass in the middle of that small forest. How it sits under the dark blue skies, and the clouds create shade in some places. Imagine looking at that every day. I would want that. I want that.”

She was a dreamer. Always on the lookout for the next rainbow, always listening for the birdsongs, always living for a miracle and this view had her attention. Like everything she did in her life, she dreamt of how this was attainable. If she put her heart into it, she could make it happen.

“It’s beautiful and that would be a dream come true.”

He did his best to join her in her fantasy, but sometimes humanity interrupts such moments. There was concern in his face, a question she had asked herself several times every moment she allowed herself to dream that this would be her view.

How could she afford it? The building was falling apart and the only way was to sacrifice more than she had. He was worried, looking at the logistics, this was going to be a huge fit. There was something in her voice as she spoke, how she looked at everything from a special perspective, she called it the eye of a writer. This was why she would sit on the grass and imagine that the ancestors and universe were talking to her, calling her to this place.

She looked at this run-down house and saw the view instead. How the windows allowed the outside inside without the intrusion of vulnerability. There was something in her hazel eyes, how they glowed as she organized imaginary furniture into a house that looked like the state of the Kenyan Government.

“I want to put a bed here, I’ll wake up early and read as I watch the sunrise.”

A list of books ran through her mind, the ones she had in a cart somewhere in an online bookshop hoping to check out soon.

“I’ve always wanted a reading nook; I’ll have one now. Look at how big it is, if I add some throw pillows, I could turn this place into a little haven, you know?”

It’s funny how she could stand in front of that window and see a future, a beauty beyond the fallen ceilings and beaten-down bathroom. How easily the words flowed out of her as she manifested the only future she wanted.

Her faith carried every word and everything she spoke became a dream she took with her as she walked towards it. He couldn’t understand it, she had learned ease, the hard way. Two years before she stood in front of a window, shut and tiny. One that she couldn’t open, not for long anyway. With the view of an old tree with dry leaves and grass around it.

In as much as opening that window came with relief, the underwhelming view, and the risk of unwanted guests crawling through, with the fresh air made it impossible to enjoy the little good it had to offer.

There is a shared assumption that the size and number of windows in a place define a few aspects of it. How much you earn is one of them, but then other factors matter, are there bars on your windows? The one from two years before had no bars, but there was nothing to it, why would she willingly subject herself to a night of fighting all crawling bugs and animals through the night in that little tin she called home.

It was how she had to look under the bed every night to ensure nothing unwanted was looking for warmth. There are two instances where she found snakes, and another time a frog hopped on her carpet like it was home. That window had nothing to offer, well, not nothing entirely.

On any afternoon that the sun became unbearable, the breeze it offered was always welcome. This window gave and demanded, because as she enjoyed the coolness, she had to stand guard, with a weapon, in case anything tried to come in. That wasn’t as enjoyable as it sounded.

It meant taking half a nap, not the ones you wake up from disoriented and it takes a minute to remember who you are, where you are, and what year it is. That window didn’t allow for freedom to let the soul wander into whatever world it wanted. She was always aware, always alert, opening her eyes every five minutes; more of torture than relief.

She hated it and opted to cook in the heat, at least she could get naked and have one of those divine naps. The discomfort of the heat was more bearable than the need to stand guard.

Today she woke up at 6 am, walked out of bed, and went to the bathroom, eyes half-open, hoping to sneak back under the duvet and get thirty more minutes of sleep before facing the day. She almost had her way, until she looked outside her window, the ones she had dreamt of looking through every morning a month before. The rays beamed through the clouds, announcing the arrival of the day, but the sun was nowhere in sight. This is the new norm in this place.

As she shivered in her pajama shirt, admiring the beautiful view pasted beyond her windows, she remembered, of the dream she had, and how it came true in every possible way, and then some. It’s not funny anymore, how she could stand in front of a window and see her future.

She breathes it in, the manifestation of her wildest dream, the physical form of her faith in the divine. Maybe not everything is okay, but then the things that matter, are. She takes it all in, her resilience and willingness to give herself the chance to make every vision she has come true.

Today she walked back to bed and remembered her arms around his neck that day as she told him her dream. Today, she held him, remembering to be grateful that he watched this dream unfold and became part of it.