Recently during my morning stroll, memories of my father flooded my mind. I'm not sure why. But I was remembering all of the good times we shared and all of the lessons he taught. I basked in the beauty of how he made me feel. Safe. Protected. Loved. Important. Special.
And then particular incident came to mind...
I must have been about five years old and I was playing in the backyard of a neighborhood friend. There were several kids playing and then, for some reason, they began teasing me. They told me that my eyes were as big as windows. I was horrified! It was almost as if they were cursing me out. What 5-year-old wants to think that her eyes resemble windows?! It was horrible.
I remember running home in tears. I told my father what happened and I remember him consoling me. He then went with me to confront these bullies. And that's where the memory ends. I have no idea what my father said to them or how they reacted or even how I reacted at the time. I just remember that he came to my rescue and made things better.
It reminds me of the saying often attributed to Maya Angelou: "People will forget what you said but they'll never forget how they made you feel."
Not long ago I did a short video about windows. I talked about how I'd begun working in a different room in my house and how it was giving me a different view, but also a different perspective.
There's something about windows.
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