The Window

“We don’t have any windows.  How do we not have any windows?”  I took a deep breath and tried to calm my beating heart.  I was claustrophobic and if there weren’t windows in the hotel room, the walls started closing in. 

“I was told there were windows,” Jeff said sensing my anxiety.  He gently took my arm and led me toward the door.  “Let’s go back toward the front lobby.  See what they have to say.   

He knew I was about to lose it and he knew he would be the recipient. 

I knew it wasn’t his fault, but if I had to stay indoors with no sight of the outdoors, I knew I wouldn’t make it.  Years of forced exile inside had done a number on me.  My grandmother had been sick for years and my mom could never deal with anyone coming or going from the house.  She never really explained her behavior, but I suspect it had something to do with her fear of someone else being sick.  Because of this, I was rarely allowed to leave. 

My mother finally got tired of trying and I got tired of staying home so when I was eighteen, I left home and seldom go back.  But I still had a fear of being locked inside with no way to escape or no way to see what was happening right outside.  The fire at my mother’s house had a lot to do with it.  The fire that my mother set. 


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