In the early morning, before the neighbors are out, before the dog walkers and the hikers, before the squawking crows claim the soundscape, I savor the serenity outside my window. I sit at my desk next to our front window. I spend a lot more time here since the sheltering-in-place order—writing, Zooming, reading, going through my mail, or just fiddling. And looking out the window. A hummingbird flits about the Lavatera outside. Neighborhood cats lounge on the street in the sun. I’ve even seen two proudly strutting wild turkeys meander through the yard across the street. A pane of glass separates me, anchored inside, from fowl and fauna, undisturbed, taking dominion over my street.
Paul and I live at the end of a short cul-de-sac. Six houses, three on each side of the street, comprise our little neighborhood. Occasionally a car enters the cul-de-sac intending to drive straight through to Sacramento Street. They can’t. When we first moved here over 35 years ago, a car slammed into the fence at the end of our street determined to find a shortcut. No one was hurt, but the car and fence were both damaged. Now, at my window, I watch cars maneuver elaborate turns to return to their path. Some back up and give themselves enough space for a U-turn, others execute a series of backing ups and going forwards until they can turn their car around, still others use our driveways for their maneuvers. Once successful, the angered ones peel away as if attempting a wheelie they would do on their bicycles.
I’ve had lots of time to study street happenings. One neighbor takes out her lawn chair and, with refreshment in one hand as the other holds a phone to her ear, she sits in the sun to participate in business calls. When she visits with another lawn-chair friend, the six-foot space between them fills with chatter. I open my window to let in the music of their laughter.
Parents like our street. Their kids can race around on their bicycles and scooters without fear of fast cars. Our recently paved cul-de-sac is a rare smooth surface for them. Not so the cross street at the end of the block, which resembles a country road, rutted and with loose gravel.
People walk their dogs placidly on my street, taking in its ambient serenity. I glance out to make sure pet companions don’t leave poop in our gardens. So far, they have taken their responsibility seriously. Other wanderers, without dogs, come down our street just because it’s quiet and welcoming. A few times I’ve seen walkers stop and wave to the woman at her window. I wave back, whether or not I know them. One couple stared and stared at our house and when I opened the window, told me how much they liked our cute little house. I smile with thanks, silently agreeing. Small kindnesses lift my spirits.
Neighbors must consider me a busybody, peering at them as they go in and out of their cars, but we give each other a friendly wave. Or, I open the window to say hello, how are you doing, we are doing well, considering. We chat, then go on with our business. I exchange hello waves with our trash collectors, mail carrier, and occasional delivery workers. People are friendly, we share an understanding about distress. My mind meanders from the tasks I set out to do. I find it hard to concentrate on my writing, reading, and desk work. I glance at my To Do list. Time to check off some items; the list is getting too long. My To Do list has turned into a Hope To Do list. I might as well just cross some items off; I’ll never get them done. And so I turn to my window to soothe my mind.
