week of feb 12th: write about a worldly place that is a threshold for you. this can mean anything-- maybe it's some place between end and beginning, forward and backward, past and present, here and there, friends and lovers, or something else entirely!
i get a pretty good view of the sunset from my backyard window. the backyard itself isn't that interesting, but i always find myself looking at everything around it. there's an old fence, half fallen apart, that separates my backyard from the one that belongs to someone on the other street. sometimes i spot movement from between gaps in the fence and i watch with curiosity.
next to that house, i can see someone else's back porch behind a wire fence. that neighbor's dogs run in the yard during the day, but come evening, when the yard is empty and the single yellow lightbulb turns on, it looks very lonely.
once, i watched an airplane pass over my backyard. all i saw was a tiny pinprick of light at first, like an early star. it slowly crept up the sky, and when it turned westward, it was like it had changed shape before my very eyes. i watched that plane crawl across the sky, over the dark, bare trees and the quiet houses until it disappeared past my back porch.
there was an incredible distance between me and that plane that evening. i don't know who was on it, what they were up to, where they were headed, and they didn't know i was looking up at them. that moment was entirely between me, the setting sun, and the plane's visage.
it makes me think, because most days, it feels like there's a barrier between me and the real world, just like the window and fence and sky between me and the things fantastic and mundane outside.
one day i won't feel this way. i'll settle into my place in the world and feel whole. until then, i'll look beyond my backyard and think of the world.