By the Window

He is standing by the window, all alone, even though there are hundreds of people passing by. He is thinking about his life, all the significant accomplishments over the years. Thinking about all those stressful projects that he had successfully accomplished one after another. Thinking about those stressful nights that he was not able to sleep, not knowing how to resolve problems, but somehow had managed to resolve them all.

He is thinking about all those countries around the world that he had been to. Thinking about those strangers whom he had met during his business trips, the faces, the accents, the buildings, the plazas, the restaurants, the bars, the clubs, and the hotels.

He is thinking about his family, his wife and his sons, and is amazed by the fact that his sons are in their twenties now. He has been married for 32 years! He remembers his wedding day: she was wearing a long white dress, covered in lace with shiny little pearls at the center of each tiny lace flower, draping her lovely young body. He remembers her beautiful dark eyes right after they said “I do”, her eyes speaking what was going on in her heart. He remembers the heat, the passion, and the love that was surrounding them when they made love that night.

He thinks about how that passionate love little by little faded, no heartbreaking, no big fight, just the time. They got both busy with their lives and the one who stayed with them was the time, watching them as they grew up together, watching them as they started to have kids, and watching them as their lives became ordinary even though they had promised an extraordinary life to each other.

Thirty two years have passed since that night. It is their anniversary today. How did it become thirty years so soon? What was he doing all those years when time slowly but continuously was passing by? Sleeping, working, traveling?

He is looking out through the window, it is 6:45pm and the fog has started crawling over the hills of San Francisco bay area. The sun is getting ready to leave the sky in the hands of the moon; the sky is orange, pink, red, and purple; it looks amazing. How did he end up living in a suburb of Chicago with its brutal winters? Why he had never thought about it before?

People in their colorful clothes are rushing around him but he is still standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, wearing a well tailored suit. As he is staring at the fog, he sees his own reflection on the glass, the dark suit has made his blue eyes look brighter, the last ray of sunlight has given his skin a golden tan color, and has made his silk tie more colorful, his grey hair shines.

There is a young female voice calling his name for the third time but he is just standing there pretending he is someone else. Finally there is an announcement: “This is the final boarding call for flight #568 to Chicago…” He looks at her reflection on the glass. She has no idea that he is standing only few steps from her. In the background of her image, the giant airplane starts backing out of the gate, leaving without him…