Trees Outside the Window

This is my last full day in South Florida.  Tomorrow I return to New Jersey, where a foot of snow awaits.  My company from Germany has gone, and I am just chilling here, taking photos in my head of the palm trees outside my window.  Perhaps it's a good thing that the skies are overcast and there is a gusty wind; it doesn't seem as painful to leave Paradise when it isn't acting as I think Paradise should.

But while I am sitting by my window, I am also trolling social media.  A woman who grew up next door to me is visiting her mother, who still lives there.  She took a picture of the snow gathering outside and posted it.  I am still trying to process how it felt to be scrolling my newsfeed and come upon a picture of my childhood home.  Surreal comes to mind.

Yes, that's my house.  If you've been following this blog, you know that it's not my house anymore.  I believe I posted about visiting the "new" owners several months ago and how strange that was.

But there it is, an accidental capture of my childhood home in a picture meant to highlight the snow.  See the window on the left?  My bedroom.  I used to reverse myself in my bed at night so that my head was at the foot of the bed, by that window.  There was a maple tree outside the window (gone now), and I can still hear the leaves rustling in the summer night breezes.  They soothed and frightened me at the same time.  Somehow . . . and this is hard to articulate . . . they spoke to me of a world that was larger than the one in which I was living.  I wanted desperately to venture out into its mystery, at the same time wanting to remain safe inside.  And guess what?  I still feel the same way.

I am listening to what the trees want to teach me.  As far as I can tell, they are saying Come here!  We have a world to show you!   But they also whisper Stay where you are safe and protected.  I am still trying to decide which voice gets to steal my heart.

And I think it's both.