Unseen Windows

I reach into the freezer and drop ice cubes in the glass.  The glass seems bigger than usual. I start to pour the tea, not much left I notice.

Men are there working on the house. One comes to the door asking for something to drink.

“Would you like tea, lemonade, or water?” I ask.

“Tea would be wonderful. Do I have to pay for it?”

“No, of course not,” I reply.

I turn back to the glass and pour the tea for him. He drinks it quickly. He tells me how grateful he is. How it makes his day so much better when he has been refreshed.  He turns and leaves.

I reach for a smaller glass and pour what’s left of the tea into it – just enough.

~ ~ ~

Riding home with my daughter, we come to what appears to be our new house.

“Do you like it?” I ask her.

She says, “It has no windows.”

I look out. Down a hill, in a desolate area, stands a terra cotta pueblo with no windows.

“This can’t be the one,” I remark.

We drive on.

Further down we come to a spot where the road can be seen winding back and forth down toward the ocean.

We stop.

At the end of the road sits the terra cotta house – our house, with a big tree shading it, and the ocean in the backyard –some sort of inlet, really, shallow with no waves. We can see the men there working.  I notice our house has no windows either. Strange, I hadn’t noticed before.

We drive on.

The house sits down below the road allowing a view of the ocean as you drive up. I look out into the water. A shark moves in and out among the shadows.

“May I go out back?” asks my daughter.

“Yes,” I reply, “but don’t go into the water.”

We get out of the car.

Her friends are waiting for her. She turns to me, and I look at her. At that moment I can see that she’s not my daughter, or at least not the daughter I’d always thought her to be.  She grabs the last glass of tea, turns away with her friends, and heads down to get into the water.

I walk inside.

~ ~ ~

The men have since stopped working. The house is finished.

Dinner preparations are under way. The onion brings tears to my eyes as the light streams through the windows and the vapor from the kettle fogs the glass…of the windows that remain unseen.