Window.

I spent many hours at the window. It framed my heart. I sat there on the window seat alone, gazing out, at what? Trying to imagine my future in the gently rolling soccer field? Trying to make sense of the cataclysms in my body, the weight of fresh blood and anxiety? Trying to connect the infinity of time before I was born to the infinity of time after I would be dead? I see the familiar window, the rolling playing fields beyond. And I see the boy, the young man.