Perhaps it's my Kansas roots...

...that make me a window opener. The first thing in the morning I love to open a window, rain, cold, snow, heat...it doesn't matter, I have to open a window.


In Kansas there is always a breeze and I learned early on you could cool a house down in the evenings quicker by opening a couple of windows than turning up the air conditioner.


...and you could get a head start on the day by cooling the house down early in the morning as the voices of the meadow lark and mourning dove floated in with the breeze.


My grandmother's bedroom was upstairs. I stayed there often. From there the wind blew across the plains and straight across her bed. I would lie next to her in my cotton pajamas letting the cool breeze lull my too tired 8 year old body to sleep...the sheer curtains swaying and dancing in the moonlight as the roller shade gently tapped the window sill making a song in my drifting thoughts.


...and in the morning the veil of fabric softened the light as my eyes fought to take in the next day as the smell of coffee and bacon wafted up the long, narrow, wooden staircase. Mom and uncle Sethie's voices came on the breeze too, with the radio announcer's voice detailing the day's weather report and wheat prices in the background.



At home in my own bed, I was often woken to my mother opening my bedroom windows and raising the shade, the wind tickling my skin and the light reminding me there were weeds to be pulled in the garden. As much as I would have liked sleeping in, I did love the beginning of a new day and the possibility of some grand adventure or the thought that I would get to find out the ending of a book I was too tired to finish before sleep won the night before.



...so when mother was with us I would often open her window for her thinking she needed the fresh air, especially at the end when she became a hostage in her room, unable to safely negotiate the stairs.


After she left I kept her windows closed. I thought opening them would air it out and her scent would leave. The mixture of Estee Lauder and her lotion were specific to her and I needed to hold onto that as long as I could.


...but eventually it was gone.


So today I knew it was OK. I could open the window and not lose any of her. It was good to see her room bright and sunny again. It lifted my spirits. Before leaving her room I stopped and straightened the comforter on her bed, fluffing her pillows. I laughed to myself when I realized her treat drawer and recently been raided by some hungry great-grandchild...


...and I wondered, do they remember that was her idea, to have a treat drawer just for them?


I left her room smiling, thinking this was a big step for me, to bring her room back to life.


...but just now, as I walked past her door with a load of Saturday morning laundry, I had to stop...


...a gentle breeze had blown through her room across her bed, around her rocking chair, to that place she had been...


...and there it was, the scent of Estee Lauder.


Yes, today there was light in her room...


...and she was there.