Shadows shrouded the halls. No one stirred in the home. A door sat ajar, a slim beam of light shining through. Crossing the rough wood floors on bare feet, I reached the glimmer of light and peered inside. Wabi-sabi widened my gaze.
I slunk quickly across the halls. Fearing the view would vanish. Worried others would awake. Terrified that the unearthly joy would leave my chest. Grabbing my Bible and a blanket, I made my way back to my discovery.
The room had no furniture. No wall hangings. Only a window. Floor to ceiling, looking out to the woods beyond. A rainbow of colors danced across the clouds, the sun hidden behind the mass of trees. Tall, skinny, lush, scraggly. The forest went far beyond my vision, yet I took in everything with a glance.
Cross-legged on the cold floor, I draped my blanket around my shoulders and started to read. Despite the cold biting my toes, I never felt so warm. Glancing at the sunrise, staring at the trees. Each so unique and wild. I couldn’t trace where one ended and another began. My gaze drifted from the book, mind drawn into the nature outside. Not a stir disturbed the slumber of the trees. Oranges and reds shifting to yellows and blues, the sky awaited the sun.
Part of me wanted to take a picture, but I knew it wouldn’t do it justice. I’d tried before.
An early morning on the road, Mom and I drove up one of the rare hills in Florida. Reaching the peak, facing the horizon, I was breathless. Fog covered the expanse, light reflecting off the wisps. Forest surrounded us, lush trees glistening in the brightening day. The asphalt was the only man-made structure in sight, natural wabi-sabi filling my gaze.
The scene had no beginning and no end. It simply existed, as if I’d been transported into a fantasy. A dream of my own creation, or a novel that had gripped my attention. The moment ended when we descended the hill, continuing on our journey.
But not here. Not in this room with only a window.
Birds woke, singing sweet melodies to the rising sun. Greens of all shades decorated the trees, no breeze disturbing their branches. Framed by walls, the imperfect view was perfect. My Bible lay open in my lap, awaiting my attention.
But all I could see were stories.
Characters rode through the trees, seeking glory or security. Animals watched from a distance, wondering what would come next. While my gaze found nothing, I felt certain a dragon stared back. Boundless imagination filled the small room. And it had space for more.
“Samantha.”
My body tensed. Pulled away from the memory, I found myself in the last place I wanted to be. In front of my computer, puzzling over social media posts and job applications. Not to mention a brother begging for food.
But my mind craved the memory. So long ago, yet not so far. It’s in the quiet that I remember the morning of pure joy. I’d sat for hours, desiring nothing more than to sit and watch the majesty of God’s handiwork. Natural imperfections discarded as random.
The memory settled my mind once more, washing off the stress of everything I had to complete for the week. Would such a vision fade? Perhaps the physical aspects, but not the feeling. The peace, the silence. Just the thought brought the rush of calm.
If only to go back to that empty room with only a window. A world separate from the one I knew.