These old back-porch windows have been the lens for surprise snows and newborn puppies, for crepe myrtles blooming and clothes drying on the line.
A few yards away I see the place yet to come, just beyond the glass. A place for art and music, for writing.
Windows from this old house will find their new place there, and while I’ll stand in a different location, I hope to see the same things.
This picture represents beyond my dearest hopes. A dream will be born.