“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

1.08.2009

I Spy a Story

A neighbor's back window, 2nd floor.

Something about this cup just speaks to me. The glow around it from sunshine on the glass. I thought I was taking a picture of the lamp but I was wrong & I knew it the moment I put the viewfinder up to my eye - it was the cup. There's a conversation going on here - a story you can make up. One cup, 2 people. Window sill. Sunshine. Very introspective. Where is the other cup, I wonder? Is it in her hand, his hand? Are they talking? Is he moving about, gesturing with his free hand? Because I think the cup above is hers, I think she was sitting next to the window, having coffee, watching the birds, enjoying the morning's warmth - I think he interrupted her few moments of silence; where's my tie? Have you seen this in the paper? But I don't think the interruption was minded, I think she knew where the tie was, I think she wanted to see what he found so interesting in the paper. It doesn't feel lonely to me when I see this one cup. It feels happy to sit here on this windowsill for a bit, enjoying this almost-springtime sunshine. I can visualize an empty chair awaiting her return - a chair pulled away from the table, pulled up next to the window. This part of the house is high - eye-level with birds' nests & squirrels jumping from limb to limb. The camellias have budded and there is one dark pink blossom visible from her seat. I see her there, before that interruption, elbow on the sill, one hand around the warm cup, leaning forward into the sunshine. I see that she's dressed for the day, up before him; I see her eyes closed for a moment as she feels the warmth on her arms. I can feel her joy at that moment. Perhaps the interruption was a kiss - perhaps they are standing in the kitchen at this very moment, a goodbye kiss for the day, see you in a bit, I'll call. I think so. It's what I feel.

But perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps the phone rang - a wrong number. Perhaps he's already gone for the day, and she's annoyed at the wrong number; perhaps she was expecting a different call, something important enough to draw her away from this little meditation. Or maybe she welcomed the interruption from her thoughts - maybe she was glad the phone rang, maybe she shook her head to clear her thoughts, maybe she was nice to the person on the other end. Perhaps if I'd stood there for another moment, she would've returned to her seat, she would've spied me spying, and laughed & invited me up for a chat. Perhaps she wants a little company.

No.
I don't think so.
A silence already filled with noises . . . a winter morning. ~ John Ashbery

10 comments:

  1. I love your stories. I'll be back tomorrow to hear another.

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  2. Always captivating. Spinning a tale like a beautifully constructed web. Everything is there...

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  3. Reading this fills me with joy.

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  4. Great contrast in the image, great contrast in the story as well. Thanks for sharing.

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  5. you had me at:"I think he interrupted her few moments of silence; where's my tie? Have you seen this in the paper? But I don't think the interruption was minded, I think she knew where the tie was, I think she wanted to see what he found so interesting in the paper."

    A silence already filled with noises . . . a winter morning. ~ John Ashbery

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  6. Julie - Oh, I am a bit of a voyeur - cannot resist peeping into windows (from the street of course!) when I walk down the street & making up stories, and redecorating all the interiors I see!

    Michelle - I am glad to see you weren't part of the awful pile-up I saw on the news this weekend! I can't imagine - well, I can imagine- that much snow!

    Relyn - No new story yet, but my brain is working on it! :)

    Paula - I must send you my spider web quote! Perhaps I'll post it.

    Hele - Your place always fills me with joy. Those wolfdogs just make me happy!

    Leau - Thanks for visiting! And thank you for the kind comment! :)

    Robin - Yes, you get it, don't you? It was not at all an unhappy interruption. And PS - I'm so glad you can read my hidden words!

    Thanks everyone!
    :) Debi

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  7. You weave stories right out of the air...from a simple photograph you find life and emotion and humanity. I get sucked right into these stories as though I am right there, observing what you observe...and in turn, wishing to observe my landscapes on a deeper level.

    xo

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  8. Oh, Jaime - I see stories everywhere, make up lives for the people next to me at stoplights. If they only knew!

    :) Debi

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