A Winter Window

Poppy always sat by the window. Anyone walking past could see her sitting there and watching. She didn’t mind you looking at her through her window. In fact, she loved it. She was just happy seeing you seeing her. And she was a very popular figure sitting in that window. Most people in the neighbourhood knew her and would give her a friendly wave as they walked by.

Poppy always sat by the front window, because it was Poppy’s way of engaging with the world. She couldn’t go out by herself, and so the front room was her home. She liked it well enough. It was warm, comfortable and interesting. She could fall asleep by the fire or poke around for things to do. But it was much more fun looking out of the window at the wonderful world out there.

Poppy always sat by the window, and because she couldn’t get out there by herself, as she would have liked, she loved making up stories for herself about the people she saw walking by. The postman was a regular, and Poppy loved it when she saw him walking up the path and rattling the letterbox with the mail. It was always exciting to investigate what the postman had brought. Where was he off to next? How did he spend the rest of his day? And what about the two girls at the bus-stop? Always the same time each morning, the chatter, the laughter and the constant texting as they spoke. Where were they going? Would they be fun to be with? More stories to ponder, and more pleasure from the world “out there”.

The winter was a special time for thinking about what people were doing or even working out who people were. Everyone was wrapped up from head to toe in warm hats, scarfs and coats, and even wellington boots if it was snowing. Sometimes, it was really difficult to tell if it was a young or old person passing by, someone local or someone unknown as they were just unrecognisable. The best days were when it was snowing hard and blizzarding, and even freezing fog. You couldn’t see more than a centimetre in front of your nose so it was possible instead to start looking at shapes of snowflakes on the window and to imagine them making shapes of people and animals. Every trapped snowflake had a different shape and represented a different story that Poppy could think about. So, winter days were often the most fascinating days, and she didn’t mind being confined to the house.

She also loved looking at the tracks in the snow in the garden outside, made by birds or cats or even hedgehogs passing across the front garden. She would wonder where they were heading to and felt very happy indeed that she was inside and not having to plod through the wet snow herself.

Poppy always sat by that window. She didn’t walk upstairs to look out from a bedroom window and she certainly didn’t sit in the cold kitchen or utility room. The real reason that she sat by the window was to watch for her house-mate Jenny coming home. Jenny would always have tales to tell of her day at work and Poppy would look forward to the sharing of experiences as they each had very different days indeed! It was fortunate that Jenny worked so they could afford to live together in their house and Poppy was eternally grateful that Jenny looked after her so well. Poppy didn’t do very much around the house, as from a  very young age she had been extremely clumsy and was constantly dropping or breaking things. Jenny was so kind and just told her to do what she wanted. They got on well and that was the main thing. You couldn’t ask for a better house-mate!

Poppy was always so happy when she saw Jenny parking her car and walking up the garden path. She would hear the key in the lock and head to the door as quickly as possible. They had shared this house for many years but there was still that thrill of excitement when Jenny came home and she knew they’d be spending a happy evening together. She knew that Jenny didn’t mind that she was sitting at the window all day, happily using her imagination and also minding the house at the same time.

Ah, at that first sight of Jenny, Poppy would jump up and down excitedly, miaow loudly, rub around Jenny’s legs. She’d often drag her catnip mouse into the hall and show how clever she was at throwing it in the air and catching it, or chasing it madly in circles around the floor.

After all, sitting by the window was all about waiting to welcome your whole world when she came back.